Mission 001
by Black-Haired Girl
Summary: co-authored by, Brkstrtrcr. 1x2; AC199. Preventers Mission, Duo and Heero begin to investigate the murder of a colleague. Ghosts from the past return, and the boys are faced with new technology that threatens the peace of the world. Collab. Slash. Drama
1. Chapter 1

Title: Mission 001 (Gundam Wing)  
>Authors: Black-Haired Girl &amp; <strong>brkstrtrcr (.netu/1564571/brkstrtrcr)  
><strong>  
>Characters: 1x2, 3+4, 5<p>

Themes/Labels:  
>Preventers, Mission-based Plot, Conspiracy, Murder (with secondary character death), Dark, Self-Identity Struggle, FriendshipCamaraderie, Violence, Slash (though not explicit), Cannon, Multiple P.O.V

Please Note:  
>This fiction had been reformatted from a raw RP based data. This is the first time we have done something like this in a collaborative format, so the tone and perspective of the story shifts erratically due to the turn-based style we used to assemble it. We tried to go through and edit out repetitive dialogue and action sequences to make it a little smoother. We are having loads of fun with this plot and thought we would share it with you guys. – Enjoy. BHG!<p>

Obligatory Copyright:  
>Gundam Wing was produced by Sunrise Agency, and licensed by Bandai Entertainment. We do not own these characters or the referred to events that occurred in the original series. This work has been constructed for amusement, and we are making no profit from its creation or publishing on this site.<p>

* * *

><p>MISSION 001<p>

In the year AC 199, a new threat looms in a period of general prosperity and peace for the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. Armed with highly sensitive and classified military personnel files and a vendetta, a rogue colonist has begun a rash of carefully planned and elaborately executed murders, targeting former OZ, Alliance, and White Fang operatives.

Each victim is found donning an almost exact replica of their last military uniform. The name of their operated mobile suit model and number of confirmed war casualties have been crudely carved into their torsos. They have been executed in traditional military fashion.

When Zechs Merquise, former OZ officer and leader of the White Fang resistance group, is found shot and maimed at the Mars Terraforming Project, Preventers is alerted to the fact that this is no random killing. Merquise is found in his White Fang uniform, with the words "Odin Lowe, Ecclesiastes 9:5" slashed into his chest. To further complicate matters, the killer has released several images of his gruesome artwork to the media.

Now Preventers is mired with a potential political catastrophe. Preventer Wind has been revealed as the one and only Zechs Merquise, the man who ruthlessly fired on the Earth from the Space Fortress Barge Libra at the climax of the AC 195 Wars.

ESUN and the public are demanding answers that Preventers cannot give them. The Gundam pilots, former terrorists and war criminals, have been under the supervision of Preventers since the Eve Wars, with the understanding that should Une become incapable of maintaining a firm leash on all five of them then ESUN will step in and send them all to a war tribunal to stand trial for the hundreds of crimes they committed while piloting their legendary mobile suits.

ESUN issues Preventers a direct order: hunt down and stop who the media has deemed 'The Expatriate Killer' or bring in the Gundam pilots to placate the murderer and protect the identities and lives of the hundreds of former soldiers and officers now helping to preserve the peace.

* * *

><p>Chapter One<br>Day One. July 4th, AC199

Duo smashed the enter key with a flourish and finished his first journal entry on his new company mandated blog. Quickly he closed out the window with a ticking of a few hot keys before taking up his most recent favorite pastime: pen twirling.

It had been a depressing day. Only last night had he gotten the call about Zechs, and all day the event was on the minds of everyone in the office. Zechs had been brutally murdered by a psychopath who decided it would be fun to play with his body, too. Duo had seen some fucked up things in his relatively short lifetime but this one was particularly creepy. It felt strange reading a report on the death of someone you knew. He had read about casualties in the line of work, but this investigation was much different. Zechs was alone in his apartment. He was off duty, it wasn't like he had gotten caught in the crossfire or harmed while on a mission. He was probably relaxing in his home unaware of what was about to happen to him.

The thing that unsettled Duo more was that whoever this was managed to do these things to Zechs without being discovered. No trace of DNA. It had been a top-notch job. How the hell did this person get in? And how the hell did he overpower Zechs, one of the Preventer's top agents?

Twirl twirl twirl, the pen became a blur in his hand as he spun it skillfully around his index finger. Previously this game had been played with a metric-sized wrench, but the weighted pen he had stolen from Heero's desk would suffice.

It had been hours since Une had briefed them on the reports from the teams out on the ground, and there had been no new information since then. After rereading the eerie Ecclesiastes 9:5 reference that had been found etched into Zech's flesh, he couldn't think of anything new or innovative. He was coming up with nothing. He wished he could be let out of this office. He wanted to go to the crime scene, as macabre as that was.

It wasn't that he didn't trust the investigators that were collecting the data; he just wanted to do it himself. He wasn't good at working behind the scenes. He wanted to be in the middle of the action. Sitting here like a lump staring at a screen may be good enough for some of the others, but not for him. He was getting stir crazy. He needed to do something to get his mind off of it for a while.

Caffeine.

"Hey, Heero. You want anything from the mess hall?" He kicked the edge of his desk to spin his chair around to face the other former pilot who shared the small office space with him. He knew Heero had been deep in thought since this morning. The guy practically never left his workstation. "Huh? Like a coffee or something?" He asked, spinning the pen.

.

Maxwell had developed some rather annoying habits since joining Preventers: incessant babbling, smashing the keys on his computer terminal, audibly fidgeting, pen-twirling. Sometimes Heero wondered how he had managed to stay in a small, cramped office for this long without throttling him to death. He credited his iron self control, but it probably had more to do with the threat of actual time in an ESUN penitentiary.

Heero ground his teeth together in a perpetual gesture that would almost certainly cost him his rear molars one day. He had been staring at these crime scene photos for hours, researching biblical scripture for longer, and that irritating shrink had already e-mailed him twice to demand he turn in his program work. That had been an annoying ten-minute distraction, but Heero realized when he was beating his head against a proverbial wall with a case. He secured his workstation terminal, unfolded from his chair, and hissed quietly as the blood rushed past old war wounds and back into his legs. He felt old, and that was baffling at approximately nineteen years of age.

Responding to Maxwell's question was a bit pointless as Heero headed out of their shared office and down the hall in the general direction of the mess. Food was not required as he had eaten this morning before leaving the barracks, but it was a change of scenery that might help jar his brain as he struggled to make any headway in this case. Merquise had been murdered in a most bizarre fashion, and if the scene left behind by the killer was any indication...

"It has to be a message," Heero said quietly. He knew Maxwell could hear him over the hustle and bustle of agents in the hallways of Headquarters, but it was better to have this conversation where he was reasonably certain it would not be overheard. He ducked into the mess, ignoring the apprehensive and wary of looks the other agents as he approached the chow line. If his demeanor was not enough to put off even the most foolhardy and stalwart agents in Headquarters, the 'High Command Agent' patch on his BDUs certainly was. After the first two weeks of this manner of attention he had learned to ignore it as insignificant and irrelevant to his duty.

This killer was after something big. Several things had become immediately apparent when Heero had read the case file. This guy had access to highly classified military data. That was how he located his victims, staged their murders, and got the details right: the uniforms, the casualty counts, the mobile suit models. But Merquise was not some random soldier to settle a score against. No, Merquise was the soldier to gun down, the man who had almost destroyed the planet without so much as flinching. Heero remembered. He had been there in a very crucial way. And if someone was angry enough over the war to want to take out former Alliance soldiers, high-ranking OZ officers, and other military personnel, then what better target than the soldiers with the absolute highest body counts in the history of the colonies?

Odin Lowe, Ecclesiastes 9:5. "For the living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing; they have no further reward, and even the memory of them is forgotten." This suspect wanted to erase every threat to peace. In doing so, all of the men, women, and children who had died during the war would be forgotten, and they would no longer threaten the peace they had fought so hard to enact. This killer was a complete psychopath.

Heero was staring rather blandly at a batch of rice pudding cups when he suddenly turned to Maxwell, cocked his head quizzically to the side, and murmured, "He's targeting Gundam pilots."

.

Duo had followed Heero out of the office and down the hall, pocketing the pen for spinning later. He knew the other pilot wanted to leave the office just as much as he did. It was inhumane, leaving them cooped in in the office filing reports with no hand in the action aside from the occasional phone call to the detective or the lackeys on the first floor. He fell into his usual pace behind Heero. Just a few steps behind, matching his even steps with long loping strides of his own.

He casually hooked his thumbs into his belt loops as followed suit down the hallway, through the open elevator foyer and to the floor's meager little mess hall. Unlike his counterpart he was beaming with approachability. The HCA status didn't help socializing much, but he was a charmer still now more than ever. Especially with the female officers and agents who often would drop everything they were doing to smile and give him a friendly wave, which he always returned with added exuberance.

Though maybe Heero bulldozing through the crowded lunchroom might have scared a few off on this particular day. He paused behind Heero to peer over the slightly shorter man's shoulder at the somewhat unsavory options in the refrigerator. Carefully he inched up beside him before opening the door to pluck out an enormous grapefruit.

Just as he retrieved his potential snack he heard Heero's lowered voice say, "He's targeting Gundam pilots."

He froze and glanced to his right where the Japanese agent was standing. The thought had passed Duo's mind once or twice when he had been mulling over the files. It would make a lot of sense that the killer would be after them. It wouldn't be the first time that they were targeted by some group or another seeking revenge.

Duo gulped, dropped the grapefruit back in the fruit basket and grabbed a Triple Rocket Popsicle. It was Independence Day after all; at least it would be on L2.

He held the Popsicle up to inspect it before replying in an equally reserved voice, "Who do you think is next? Does it have something to do with the name Odin Lowe?" It didn't have any significance to Duo. He had searched the Preventer databases for such a person with no such luck. All data files had come up with nothing.

He continued to inspect the Popsicle for a moment in thought before grabbing a can of Red Bull from the same fridge. A woman from the calls department smiled and nodded at him as she passed.

.  
>"Who do you think is next? Does it have something to do with the name Odin Lowe?"<p>

Heero tensed unconsciously at the way Maxwell said the name without any real understanding of its importance. He was a little surprised, in all honesty; he had expected Maxwell to go hacking through the Preventers Level 5 database and read up on all the pilots at the first opportunity.

He reached out and picked up a rice pudding cup with no real intention of eating it, swiped his ID at the register to pay for their lunches, then took Maxwell by the elbow and steered him rather forcefully to an empty table in the corner of the mess. Sitting with his back firmly in the corner of the room, Heero surveyed the other officers warily before speaking as quietly as he knew how.

"You know that the real Heero Yuy was a famous political figure before the wars," he stated more than asked. "The man who assassinated him and sparked the wars in the first place was named Odin Lowe." Heero paused, unsure of just how much information was pertinent to tell the other pilot. It was not that he did not trust Maxwell; it was more that he guarded his personal information carefully, out of as much habit as necessity, and his training protested divulging too much to anyone.

However, this was Duo Maxwell. He had fought in two wars with him. This kid had forgiven him for innumerable wrongs-stealing parts from his Gundam, attempting to kill him in the Lunar Base, breaking his ribs during the Eve Wars...

"Odin Lowe was the man who started my training, before I met J. The only people who know of that connection are Une, me, and now you. It's in my Preventer file, but only certain people have access to it." Heero sighed uncharacteristically, his frustration beginning to edge through his control. He ran a hand through his constantly-disheveled hair and glared at the rice and milk in the little plastic cup in front of him and growled.

"It could be something. It could be nothing. I highly doubt that it's nothing."

.

Duo stared at him from his spot across the table. He had managed to get the wrapper off of the Popsicle and was just about to pop it in his mouth when Heero spilled the beans. He stared slack-jawed at him for a long moment as he explained the significance of Odin Lowe.

He dropped the red, white and blue sugary treat away from his face to hold parallel to the table, letting it drip carelessly against the stark white surface. Red splatters, reminiscent of the photographs they had both slaved over for hours earlier that afternoon.

"Is he still alive, this Odin guy?" Duo replied in a confidential voice, his darkened eyes darting back and forth over Heero's shoulder to make sure nobody was close enough to overhear.

.  
>Heero watched the syrupy mess Maxwell was making on the table with a critical eye. It looked like a Rorschach test. An ironic sort of smile curved the corner of his mouth. "No," he said. "He was shot in the heart and killed by Dekim Barton during an assassination attempt on General Septum from the Alliance in AC 188. I was eight."<p>

Heero knew that it should hurt in some way to remember watching his mentor bleed to death in front of him, but it didn't. It never did. Dr. Wolfstadt was convinced that that was what made him such an optimal soldier-a strange inability to experience emotion. But that was wrong. He did feel things. He just did not acknowledge nor speak of them.

"We need to go to the scene. There has to be something else there, something that the other agents have overlooked." Heero looked up at Maxwell with a serious expression on his face. "You have to talk to Une. If she's made the connection between me and Odin Lowe then there is no way she'll willingly let me step one foot off of this planet."

.

Duo watched Heero's face closely and immediately picked up on the slight flicker of emotion on the other pilot's face. Eight years old... He wondered if Odin Lowe meant as much to Heero as Father Maxwell had to himself.

A peculiar feeling crept cross his chest. He stared down at the Popsicle and suddenly wasn't very hungry. The feeling, he soon labeled as dread, gave him a nauseous sensation in the pit of his stomach.

So this was the proof Heero had that the Gundam pilots were being targeted. And that meant Heero was next in line. Duo popped open his can of Red Bull and began swigging it down quickly. He gave a breathless sigh before propping his elbow up on the table, cradling his chin in his upturned hand.

"Une... " he practically spat out her name. She was the driving force behind everything they did, as well as the chains that bound them. "There is no way she is gonna let us out of here. If you have mentioned this Odin Lowe to her once in the past that viper will have remembered it." Duo turned his eyes upward to stare at the faded ceiling tiles with disinterest. "I agree with you though. I wanted to get on the ground the moment I heard about this. How are we supposed to be an elite task force and yet be restricted in our missions? I mean, I'll try and talk to her, but I can't see her letting you and I go out there unattended. No offense to you, but you have a tendency to blow shit up."

Duo tried to think of an option, something that Une would have to concede to. He avoided looking at Heero, most certain that he was receiving a glare for his last comment.

"You know what... she wouldn't let us go alone, but what if we were escorts to someone important? Like... " Duo hesitated and glanced down at Heero, inching backwards in his seat to lengthen the distance between them before his next statement. "Relena?"

Duo knew this would work. If he could convince Relena that a memorial service should be done on Mars then Une would have to allow them to go. Relena wouldn't have it any other way anyway. She loved Heero and would use every opportunity to snag him into protecting her. Une couldn't allow Heero out of the compound without Duo, otherwise the braided former pilot would make her life miserable.

.

Heero nodded slightly in agreement and continued to watch Maxwell. Loathe as he might be to admit it, when he found himself stumped and needed a creative or unorthodox way of solving a problem the braided pilot was second to none. Heero barely managed to contain a smirk at the comment about 'blowing shit up'. That was putting it lightly. Besides, Maxwell had blown his fair share of 'shit' up during their heydays. When Maxwell suddenly backed away from him Heero knew it could have been for one of two reasons: Heero was glaring with unusual ferocity or Maxwell was about to say something that he believed warranted being punched. Frowning, Heero waited for the other shoe to drop. "Relena?"

He really didn't want to punch Maxwell. He had almost convinced himself of that when his fist made contact with the wall directly to the left of the other agent's head. There was something about Relena Peacecraft that made him want to break every oath he'd sworn to join Preventers and engage in random homicide. The girl was absolutely insufferable and she insisted on pulling him away from far more pressing tasks to attend to her every whim. It was infuriating. And now Maxwell, who was supposed to be his 'best friend,' was suggesting they use the girl as their ticket to Mars.

Her brother had just been murdered. She would probably be an unholy mess of tears and sniffling, and she would want Heero as her primary pointman. Maxwell would be sent along because Une knew all to well that, left alone in the office without Heero, he would wreak havoc and pull childish pranks to alleviate his boredom.

Heero wondered when 'HCA' had translated to 'Glorified Babysitter.' He lowered his fist slowly and glared at Maxwell, but it lacked its usual intensity. This was a decent plan. But now he had to speak with Relena. "I hate you," he grumbled before standing and running a hand through his hair in what was fast becoming an impatient habit. "You will contact her," he ground out, before offering Maxwell a hand up from the table. "My likelihood of opening fire on civilians is directly proportionate to my unsupervised exposure to her."

.

Duo was used to being on the receiving end of punches. Not only from Heero. From anyone really. He was accustomed to watching fists fly, but that didn't make it any less freaky when one came flying at his face. He stared, wide-eyed and blinking, at Heero's face which had come in a much closer proximity to his own as the dull thud of the other agent's fist smacked the wall behind him.

"Heh... heh..." Duo's strangled, nervous laugh couldn't be helped. He knew that Heero wouldn't like the idea, but he hadn't expected the other pilot to lunge all the way across the table at him. The American's eyes drifted to the right where a group of Level One agents were whispering amongst themselves, staring in horror at them.

Duo knew this meant nothing. Heero was on edge, and sometimes he had a hard time dealing with stuff like this. He had been around the other pilot long enough to know this, so when Heero burst into unexpected violent motion he was hardly fazed. But those poor underlings... there went all chances of ever getting visitors in their office. At Heero's friendly 'I hate you' Duo felt himself smile. Heero had consented.

Duo had bypassed Heero's offer to help him up by leaping to his feet on his own, taking the liberty to grasp the other pilot's shoulder in a firm and friendly way. In doing this he hoped the onlookers would interpret Heero's sudden outburst as playfulness, and they would see that everything was okay. Unlike Heero, he cared about what other people thought. Not on a personal level, but on a professional one. He knew from watching Quatre that the more people liked you, the more willing they were to help you. It had been the very reason for his happy, joyful facade. Even if you felt like complete shit on the inside, as long as you put on a happy face, other people trusted in you and wanted you with them.

"I'll call her. I don't think getting her to accept the idea is going to be a problem." He let his hand casually drop from Heero's shoulder and grinned. "It'll be a piece of cake. Get Relena to call Une with the idea, and then BAM. We'll be on our way to the red planet in no time."

.

Heero's glare slid from the hand on his shoulder back to Maxwell's face, then followed his line of sight to the frightened group of rookie agents huddled at a table across the room. They looked away quickly and Heero frowned. Barton had warned him against intentionally intimidating other agents, and Chang would yell for a minimum of seventeen minutes if he heard that Heero had almost assaulted Maxwell, again, in public, again. He straightened up and followed Deathscythe's pilot out of the room. Heero grunted noncommittally. He did not expect this to go quite so smoothly as Maxwell was suggesting, but he knew that it would indeed work. Now it was just a matter of patching a direct line through to Relena's office, bypassing her secretaries and security teams, and getting Maxwell to talk her into it.

He rounded the corner in the narrow hallway to their office and glanced around disinterestedly as the handscan entry on the door chirped and flashed against his palm. Heero had always found this process confusing as he did not actually have fingerprints, but it seemed to work. Further down the hall, another agent was eying both him and Maxwell with hooded interest. Odd, that. He had never seen her before on this level of the building. Heero kept a mental directory of every agent he encountered on their floor. This woman was young, blonde, though he was certain that wasn't her natural hair color. She was thin, pretty in the textbook definition of the word, and her standard-issue jacket and slacks were wrinkled.

From twenty feet away he couldn't make out the name patch on her jacket; Captain Po was convinced that he had permanently damaged his genetically enhanced eyesight when Zero had exploded during his assault on the Presidential Building. There was just something about her that seemed... off. Heero did not get what Maxwell called 'gut impulses' very often, but he paid attention when he did.

The mechanical clicking of their office door drew his attention suddenly, and he watched numbly as Maxwell pushed past both him and the doorway before turning back to glance down the hall. The female agent was gone. Heero chewed his lower lip unconsciously as he followed Maxwell inside, shut the door, then crossed the room to his workstation. His fingers flew across the keys to his terminal, and in a matter of moments he had circumnavigated Relena's security and hacked directly into her computer terminal, and they were watching her speak quickly and in fluent French over the vidphone in her office.

She was dressed impeccably as always, though in a somber black suit, not her customary pastels. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, and Heero immediately glanced up and over his shoulder at Maxwell, mouthing 'Now or never' at the other man before sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He waited for Maxwell to speak and get her attention. His presence in the video would only help their plan, he was certain, but Heero had never gained an appreciation for being bait.

.

As Heero opened the terminal to Relena's vidphone Duo had taken his customary position beside the workstation and waited. Now his thoughts were being overrode by something he didn't want to dwell on but couldn't deny. Heero was the next target for this killer. The image of his comrade sitting on the floor in a pool of his own blood with his old flight suit on and a bullet in his head flickered to mind. Almost angrily Duo grit his teeth and shook his head.

Nobody could kill Heero. The guy was practically indestructible. He had survived over a hundred hectic descents through the atmosphere. He came through the ZERO system more or less okay, and he had survived that jump from the top of that hospital building with only a few broken bones to speak of.

The thought of Heero dead was freaking him out, and gave him a sickening realization of his own fragile mortality.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Relena looking so somber on the screen. Quickly he straightened his posture and took Heero's cue to start. He fell into his usual bubbling, positive persona. With a click he had opened the line to reveal their image. Duo leaned down carelessly over Heero's shoulder to peer into the camera. Next the audio. Once Relena had hung up her previous call he waited a long moment to let her gather herself before hailing her.

"Miss Peacecraft. Long time no see!" He chirped happily. He saw Relena startle for a moment before turning in her chair to look at them. She seemed relatively interested in talking but immediately brightened at the sight of Heero brooding at the edge of the screen.

"Oh, Duo... Heero. How good to see you two." The former Queen of the World looked like she was barely holding herself together. It was interesting to watch.

"Yeah! Good to see you too. I'm calling to let you know that we here at the Preventers are dedicating all of our resources on your brother's case. Heero, especially. He had been working nonstop on this." Maxwell was moving away from him again. Heero had half a mind to reach out and grab either his tie, which was dangling over his right shoulder, or that ridiculous braid, within arms reach of the tie. Then he would choke the other man with it. "The other reason Heero thought we should call you is because we are sort of stumped here. We need to gain access to the ... urm... well, crime scene."

.

When Relena's tears threatened to spill over Heero contained a long-suffered sigh. His annoyance with the woman was quickly overshadowed by discomfort as Maxwell leaned closer to his terminal, practically hanging over the back of Heero's chair and shoulder. Wing's pilot felt body-warmed metal against his cheek and glanced up to see one of Maxwell's sidearms near his face. He busied himself with memorizing the serial number on the gun in favor of watching Relena sniffle on the video feed. Maxwell was crooning to her like he did with skittish alley cats behind the barracks building. "We'll find him, Relena. But we need to get to Mars. I need your help. Une won't let us out of here unless you help us."

Heero wondered if the cats were symbols to Maxwell, representing in his twisted mind all of the unwanted, orphaned children he had known on L2. He wondered if the other pilot was kind to them and fed them because he felt obligated, or he somehow thought that by helping to prolong their miserable existences he was atoning for some past wrong that Heero really could not fathom. Maybe Maxwell just liked cats. He was distractedly tracing the harsh metallic lines of the gun's slide when the conversation onscreen snagged his attention once more. "...Tell Une that you really need Heero. Don't let her saddle you with anyone else."

That urge to throttle his partner was rising, again. He wasn't sure why Maxwell was able to inspire blinding homicidal rage in him so often. Dr. Wolfstadt said it had something to do with "diametrically opposing personality profiles and work ethics." After five years, Heero was simply convinced that he was destined to gut the idiot. When he glanced at the vidscreen again Relena's tears were gone and she was smiling coyly at him. He looked away quickly and stared at Maxwell's belt as if it held the cure for cancer in its worn leather material. "Yes. I hope to see you two very soon. Goodbye, Duo. ... Heero."

Heero waited exactly three seconds after Maxwell had reached forward and terminated the secure line before calmly reaching up and grabbing hold of the man's tie. As he'd suspected, it was not a clip-on. Foolish decision on Maxwell's part. He had the thin black fabric wrapped around his fist twice and was hauling Maxwell down over the back of the chair with it in less than two seconds. Once most of the other agent's weight was settled on Heero's shoulder he flipped him over the chair and onto the carpet with ease, then stared blankly down at him where he'd sprawled on the carpet.

"Leave me alone with her for longer than ten minutes and you'll have to arrest me for premeditated capital murder," he deadpanned. "This is not amusing." He calmly turned back to his terminal and began sorting email. As much as he wanted to solve this case, dealing with that girl was almost more daunting than standing trial for killing 1,378 hostiles and 214 civilians. Almost.

His terminal flashed and then Colonel Une was glaring out at him from the monitor. "HCAs Azrael and Dumah, you are to report to my office immediately." He flinched back imperceptibly at the emphasis she made on 'immediately.' Une was pissed. There were few things in the galaxy that intimidated Heero Yuy: children, mental patients, the Zero system, sexually aggressive women. There were even fewer things that honestly unnerved him. Lady Une in a foul temper was definitely one of those things. She disappeared from his screen almost as quickly as she had appeared, and Heero swiveled slowly around in his desk chair to look at Maxwell while rising. His BDUs suddenly seemed uncomfortably restrictive at the prospect of marching into Une's office.

"This was your idea," he said, not quite accusing. "How do you want to handle this?"

.

Duo had landed on his back, sprawled in a haphazard pile of limbs and braid, staring up bewildered at Heero. He really should learn to keep his guard up when he was around him. He vowed to be more careful in the future. Whether he kept to that vow... well, he would probably forget to.

"Look buddy," Duo remarked shortly as he pushed himself up to a stand, dusting off his backside. "How am I supposed to think if you keep nearly giving me concussions?" He straightened his tie, smoothed down the front of his button-up uniform shirt and jerked a thumb to the door.

"I got no ideas, but I'll think of something!" He replied brightly before turning on his heels and marching towards the door. "It's time to play innocent," he chuckled as he vanished out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO  
>DAY 3. July 6, AC199<p>

Lady Une had been more than reluctant to allow Duo and Heero off of the planet. She was overwhelmed with the stresses of being the head honcho of the Preventers. She was under a lot of scrutiny from the ESUN over the emergence of Zech's death, which made her even crabbier than usual. She lectured them about what another incident would mean for the organization. She threatened them not to make fools of her. Duo knew she was suspicious of Relena's sudden request for Heero and Duo to meet her on Mars, but the young woman had somehow persuaded her. Duo was thankful for it. He would personally make sure Heero sat next to her at every dinner and meeting they had to repay her.

Catching the transfer orbit to Mars had been easy enough. The flight itself had taken 24 hours, a ridiculous amount of time compared to the speed the Gundams used to travel through space. There were no fancy digs for them there. Une said due to recent cutbacks they would have to hail a shuttle. A civilian shuttle.

Civilian shuttles were disgusting in Duo's opinion. He had hardly used public transportation like this before. As a kid he never left the colony, so he was never subjected to the filthy colony-to-earth shuttles. He had stowed away on a barge before that, and those were relatively abandoned. No, this was just horrible.

He had tried to sleep, but the thought of breathing the same recycled air that smelled faintly of baby poop and Fritos made it difficult to relax. Every time the man three rows ahead sneezed he reflexively covered his own mouth and tried to think happy thoughts.

It had been a long 24 hours.

But somehow they had made it to the docking station on Mars. Duo had never been to the Mars outpost before. The red planet was as barren as it had been on the informative video they had been looping on the shuttle. Boring, red, rusty and barren. Part of him wondered why Zechs was here. Wasn't it something to do with terraforming? He wondered vaguely if Noin was around. It had been the first time he had thought of her since the incident with Zech's death. He wondered how she was handling it. Noin was a tough cookie, but she had been devoted to Zechs since the beginning. She was probably devastated.

Stiffly he exited the shuttle and found himself in the reception terminal, a long and wide hallway reminiscent of the airport terminals back on Earth. Tourists and different official looking officers from various agencies mulled around the crowd, stopping at the baggage carousel for their luggage. He didn't need to stop there. Having been a pilot and then an orphan before that, Duo was never one for material things. He could live out of his beat up old Mt. Dew dufflebag. Sure, he could have used the commissioned boring black one, but this one had sentimental value, right?

Nah, it just irritated Heero. And it was shiny.

He shouldered the bag, checked his pocket for his ID and passport, checked his hip for his trusty .40 Para Ordnance P-16 LDA. It was a hulking huge gun, and his little secret he liked to keep from Une. She had ordered everyone to carry the standard commission 9mms, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. He tugged his uniform jacket over the top of the gun to conceal it and smiled as he walked down the gangplank to the main floor. "Would ya check out this place?" He said aloud, more to himself than anyone in particular.

.  
>Heero shook out his right leg, which had fallen asleep sometime around their shuttle passing the moon. His back was sore from the cramped position in which he'd sat; sleeping on a civilian shuttle was impossible. Had Maxwell been flying, he would have slept like the dead. Unfortunately, Une had not given them that option. Actually she hadn't given them many options at all. She had addressed most of her stern instructions to Maxwell. She mostly ignored Heero, and when she was forced to interact with him she kept their communication curt and brief. He supposed she had never really forgiven him for attempting to shoot Mariameia.<p>

Heero cracked his lower spine, slung his standard-issue black duffel over his shoulder, and started out after Maxwell. His joints protested the noticeable change in gravity but he ignored it. "We have to report in with Captain Noin at Orion Outpost. Fastest way there is the lightrail. It should take another three hours."

The permanent civilians on the settled half of Mars were generally Preventers contractors. They did not stray from the artificial gravity, UV shields, or recycled water. Orion Outpost, however, was one of the most dangerous places on the Red Planet. It was an experimental undertaking to transform the uncolonized side of Mars, terraforming the barren, rusty landscape into arable farmland. The outpost had weaker gravity systems, experienced scheduled rolling blackouts to conserve power, and ran on constant water usage restrictions. Heero was not looking forward to spending much time there.

Merquise's memorial service was being held in two days, in the colonized district of Mars. Heero and Maxwell had forty-eight hours to inspect the crime scene, the body, and make any progress before heading back to Brussels. All of this while guarding Relena. Heero chewed his lower lip. Stepping out of the main waiting area of the station, he surveyed the terminal's various display boards until he found the lightrail line that ran to the Outpost. Flashing his Preventers ID with the large 'HCA' stamped over his picture got he and Maxwell unquestioned access to the train. He stalked past nervous-looking agents to the very rear of the train and forcefully opened the last compartment door. Its occupants, two terrified male agents, stared. "This compartment isn't taken, is it?" he asked quietly. The young men scrambled to their feet, grabbed their bags, and high-tailed it from the seats, apologizing profusely as they fled. Heero stepped aside to let them pass, arching one eyebrow at Maxwell. "Neither of us has slept in twenty-four hours. Do you want first watch or second?"  
>.<p>

"Three hours..." Duo would have groaned this bit louder if it weren't for the fact he was completely parched and exhausted. He followed suit behind Heero, doing the same card flashing at the terminal that the other agent had done. He tried not to laugh as Heero wasted no time on the train, and when the Japanese man had bullied the two agents out of the hijacked compartment. He gratefully plopped down onto the seat, tossed his bag into the storage bin under the seat and yawned. At the question of who was going to take first watch he just shrugged and fished in his pocket for his Tiger Handheld game, Gauntlet. He had swiped this archaic little gem from an antique store. He found it amusing. He powered it up and began poking the buttons absently.

"You go ahead. I'm kind of enjoying being sleep-deprived and mildly delirious." With a grin he leaned back into his seat, extending his legs as far as they could go, then slipping halfway down into his seat to assume a rather sloppy slouch.

Heero snorted in vague amusement as his partner became absorbed in whatever odd game the small device in his hands contained. He stepped carefully over Maxwell's legs, purposefully dropped his duffel bag onto the other man's kneecaps, then curled up on the seat across from the braided pilot. The fabric of the seat was scratchy against his cheek and he decided that he was never taking an assignment again that involved civilian transportation. He had slept in Zero's cockpit more times than he could honestly recall; this lightrail car was hazardous by comparison.

One of them, however, needed to be of sound mind to investigate the crime scene. Sleep was essential at this point. Heero closed his eyes and dutifully attempted to shut his body down, but his issued 9mm was digging into his left hip. He sat up, removed it from its holster, and muttered, "Hold onto this" before he tossed it to Maxwell for safekeeping, and then tried again to sleep. His .45 was now wedged uncomfortably between the waistband of his pants and the stiff back of the seat. That too was fished out and thrown to Maxwell. On the third try, Heero growled and yanked his jacket off, shaking it out over Maxwell's sprawled legs, his duffel, and the compartment floor. An assortment of small grenades, ammo clips, and electronic devices tumbled from his jacket's pockets.

When Heero was satisfied that he had been divested of weapons, he balled up the jacket, stuffed it under his head, and lay curled up and staring across the small compartment at his fellow pilot. Heero couldn't seem to make his brain stop analyzing things. It was a common problem for him. Now, he was back to thinking about that cryptic message the Orion Outpost agents had found carved into Merquise's hide.

"Am I next?" he asked himself aloud. Had that been the significance of 'Odin Lowe'? When Heero had first enlisted with Preventers, Une had speculated that perhaps Lowe had been his biological father. Heero found it irrelevant and trivial information. He certainly did not care if he had family ties. The genetic tinkering that J had performed on him had scrambled his DNA markers so completely that testing it now was pointless, and moreover, Heero had no interest in it.

But if someone had illegally obtained access to his highly classified personnel files, cracked the encryption, and discovered that the man who had assassinated the real Heero Yuy and practically started the damned Colony Wars was, in all likelihood, Agent Azrael's father, then Heero was fairly confident that that information would make him a serious target. He felt no fear, no dread or apprehension about this small epiphany. He was more than capable of taking care of himself. But this also meant that being anywhere near Relena was dangerous. It might even put Maxwell at risk...

Heero's gaze drifted back to his partner and he realized that Maxwell was no longer engrossed in his game. And then Heero realized that he had been theorizing all of his thoughts aloud. He sighed in annoyance, mostly at himself, and closed his eyes. He was asleep within seconds.  
>.<p>

Duo was cranky. He was tired. Why were they coming to Mars again?

Oh, right. It was to get Heero laid and loosen him up. Duo smirked at his private little joke when suddenly he heard Heero say, "Am I next?"

He looked up from the handheld and frowned. Duo may have been outgoing and talkative but he knew when to be quiet. He had nothing to say in response to Heero's train of thought, and no amount of words could be put to the task of soothing Heero's mind. It was true. All leads did seem to point to Heero as the next potential target. He narrowed his eyes and stared down into the screen again, trying to engross himself in the faded 8-bit graphics of the antique little hexagon.

The other pilot fell silent. Duo knew from the deepening of his breathing that he had fallen asleep. He played a few levels of the game before shutting it off and pocketing it. He looked down at his lap, full of weapons and Heero's odds and ends. He frowned down at them, picking up the 9mm and turning it over gently in his hands. The gun was clean and perfectly oiled. He assumed it would be. Then he let his eyes drift over the slide of the gun to Heero, who was sleeping heavily, still as death.

If Heero's random outburst of speculation hadn't been the kicker, the fact that he was a walking Fort Knox signified his stress over this situation. For a moment Duo wondered if coming here was even a good idea. If Heero was in danger, then maybe they should have left it to the other agents. Not that Duo felt that the Preventer HQ was very safe. He never really felt safe anywhere anymore, unless he was in outer space. Flying solo in a mobile suit, or these days in a transport shuttle. A place where there wasn't a living soul around, where you nobody could sneak up on you.

Carefully he moved Heero's arsenal over to the seat beside him, lining up the guns and clips carefully. Then he leaned back into the cushion, tilting his head up to stare unseeing at the vents overhead. He began to recall the security booths on the main receiving platform. He tried to remember the vents there, and the hidden dark corners of the bustling lightrail stop. It would be difficult to sneak onto this planet, practically impossible. Nobody could have stowed away on a civilian shuttle. Hiding in a populated craft like that wasn't likely. If the killer of Zechs wasn't on the inside he would have to sneak in through a cargo ship. Possibly an unmanned cargo ship. These days it was cheaper to use robotics and positioning devices to send ships to distant points in outer space. They wouldn't need to provide oxygen or food to a crew. The killer could have stowed away on one of those, as long as they were fitted with air and food for the voyage.

Regardless of all of the obstacles the murderer had managed. It was scary to think that someone had those sorts of resources at their disposal. But... what if it wasn't one person? Surely one person wouldn't be able to arrange such a thing on their own.

What if there is a team of people working on this?

It made sense. As he had thought before, an organization. Though normally organizations have some sort of end goal. Money, like the terrorists strive for. Or political change. Not really revenge. What would killing off the Gundam Pilots do? Surely sending them to trial would give an organization more. They could get justice. They could get their message out over the media. Nah, this was a cold-blooded killer. Maybe two. Maybe three. But less than five, Duo was sure of it. Nothing ever goes right with more than five people working on something... he knew that from living on the streets. More room for error. More possibilities for the secret to get out.

He sat there for a long time, running thoughts through his head. What did this person look like? He pictured a rough looking man with a frightening scar on his face and a hook for a hand. What did Zechs say before he died? What face could the former Prince of Cinq see before he perished, or did he see a face at all.

He wondered what it would feel like, just before you loss consciousness, when you were shot in the head. He closed his eyes and sighed, ashamed at himself for being so dark but there it was. The crime scene. The man in his mind, speaking softly to a nearly comatose Zechs. The man whispering 'Heero Yuy' in a voice barely audible.

Duo jumped with a start. Had he fallen asleep? He checked his watch. No. He had only closed his eyes for a moment. It had felt like forever. He grabbed up his toy and forced himself to submerge into the game. He tried not to think about anything else. An hour and a half passed. He turned off the handheld and lifted a foot wearily, nudging the sleeping Heero with the toe of his boot.

Merquise was asking him something, but he couldn't hear the man. The room was dark, the air was oppressive and heavy, and all Heero could hear were Preventer Wind's indiscernible muttering and his own harsh breathing. Something felt... wrong about this place and every instinct in Heero's mind screamed for him to run. His fight-or-flight response was calculating his chances of survival at less than ten percent, but he couldn't leave Merquise, and he couldn't find the exit. If he moved, he was certain it would be a fatal mistake. His weapons were missing, his pulse was racing, and Maxwell was nowhere in sight.

A gunshot rang out deafeningly loud in the blackness, but there was no flash. Small caliber, Heero's mind supplied, probably a .22, maybe a 9mm. Merquise had stopped talking. Heero threw caution to the wind and whirled around in the darkness, racking the slide on his .45 and aiming it in front of him. There was nothing to shoot at. "Maxwell?" he called out quietly. He received no response, but he heard a new voice pleading with him in the darkness. Like Merquise, he couldn't make out the words, but the voice was painfully familiar.

"Maxwell?" he shouted, swinging his gun around wildly in search of his partner, but for every step he took the braided pilot's voice became fainter and fainter. Heero growled in frustration, his heart pounding in his chest. "Duo!" He heard the metallic scrape of a gun being cocked and turned towards the sound, but he could not fire for fear of accidentally hitting his friend.

Maxwell's voice was desperately quiet now, and Heero finally managed to locate it. He moved towards it in the dark and reached out with one hand, keeping his .45 trained to his left, and his fingers encountered Maxwell's trademark rope of hair, the collar of his Preventer's jacket. Heero felt an unexplainable sense of relief pervade his chest. Then a second gunshot rang out in the dark, and Maxwell slumped sideways against his friend and was still.

"Hey. Wake up."

Heero reacted without thought, kicking out blindly and reaching to the small of his back for his weapon, but his gun was missing. His eyes flew open, scanning the room wildly for the threat. All he found was his partner, alive and whole, giving him an odd look. He stared at the other pilot in confusion for a moment, before shaking his head and getting hastily to his feet. He'd been dreaming. Or having a nightmare. He never had nightmares. What the hell was wrong with him?

He cleared his throat without looking at Maxwell. "Status?" he asked gruffly.  
>.<p>

Duo knew Heero would have startled when he woke. Didn't they all? He was sure it had something to do with PTSD. That diagnosis was quite rampant in their little group. He smiled a drowsy but friendly smile and watched as Heero tried to recover from his sudden wakening.

Duo shrugged and grabbed a handful of Heero's things and handed them across the cabin to him, discarding them on his companion's lap so he could make room for himself. Sleep couldn't come soon enough.

"Status? Just a few zombie Nazis, an outbreak of tribbles and the assassination of Kennedy. Other than that, real quiet." Duo teased, smirking. He shrugged off his coat, unholstered his gun and set it down to rest on top of his duffle bag beneath his seat. Then he gave a long, languorous stretch before lumping sideward in the seat.

"You okay man?" He added, watching Heero with a half-lidded eye. He waited for half a millisecond for his response before he passed out. It has been a while since he had gone without sleep. Being a Preventer with regular hours and a normal sleep schedule had made him soft. It was as if the plug had been pulled to his brain. His eyes lolled to the side and his body went limp. Slowly he leaned to the left against the cushion of his seat, then to the right with the miniscule shift of the lightrail. He wobbled in the center of the artificial gravity before tipping to the right- and over the edge of the seat and onto the floor.  
>.<p>

Heero listened to Maxwell's smart-ass comment without response, dropping onto the seat and burying his head in his hands. The braided man was asleep almost instantly, and managed to roll off of the seat and onto the floor without waking. It was one of the idiot's remarkable traits-sleeping like the dead. Heero was certain that there was an irony to that, but he wasn't in the mood to muse on it further. Instead, he picked up his jacket from where it was still balled up on his seat, shook it out, and covered his snoring partner with it before leaning back against the compartment wall and staring at the opposite wall.

He wanted to get to this crime scene and get this investigation over with. Prolonging this case was only giving the killer more time to locate his victim. Heero ignored the fact that the victim was most likely himself. He had survived two wars, self-destructed multiple times, and been shot at point-blank range on more than one occasion. Some pedantic serial murderer with a grudge wasn't going to get the best of him.

Heero maintained his vigil over the moron on the floor until the lightrail began losing momentum. He turned his gaze out the window and saw more endless red dirt, but nearby there were now buildings, stark white structures with tubes, hoses, and wires connecting them. It looked similar to the Lunar Base, but much more cramped and consolidated. Their car came to an abrupt stop; Heero braced himself against the wall to avoid tumbling over.

After reholstering both of his sidearms and pocketing his other belongings, he looked down at Maxwell and considered leaving him on the train. Then he thought of what Une would say if she found out that he'd been unsupervised and at risk of blowing things up and sighed. "Wake up, 02," he said in his usual monotone. "We're here."  
>.<p>

Duo had felt the change in speed but tried his best to stay asleep. It wasn't until Heero's voice ordered him up that he stirred. He stared up from his spot on the floor, looking thoroughly confused.

"How did I end up down here...?" He mumbled to himself before gathering his things. He tugged on his coat, reholstered his gun and retrieved his bag. Soon he was off of the train and onto the receiving deck. There weren't many people getting off here, only a few nerdy looking science types and a couple of security thugs. His eyes surveyed the checkpoint. He was just about to fish his ID out of his coat pocket when a familiar voice called to them, echoing in the large empty hangar.

"Azreal! Dumah! Over here!" Duo blinked and turned to his left. Another Preventer uniform was trekking across the grates towards them. Noin.

"Hey, Noin." Duo's greeted her, still tired from his short nap. He felt paranoid, as if someone was watching him. He tried his best to smile but then found himself looking around at the large, spacious holding area skeptically. Maybe it was the sleepiness making him overly concerned. "Uh, how are you doing?"

Noin sighed and stopped just in front of them. She crossed her arms over her chest and said rather flatly, "I've been better."

But of course she had. She had lost the man closest to her only a few nights before. Duo felt like a prick for being so insensitive, but in the same moment he hardly cared. He was too tired to care. He shifted his bag to his other shoulder and frowned. Noin immediately snapped into a picture of professionalism.

"Come, this way. We have a tram. It will take us to the briefing room. We can talk there." She motioned for them to follow her to a small four-passenger tram, driven by another Preventer. Duo loaded himself onto it wearily and sat in silence while it drove them through the various tubes and enormous halls until the stopped somewhere Duo assumed was near the belly of the main compound. They were escorted into a dark room that flickered to life as soon as Noin punched in the access code. It was a stark, barely furnished room with only a single door leading in and an average looking wooden table with six matching chairs. Duo hurried over to the closest one and sat down in it, dropping his bag at his feet.

Once everyone was situated Noin took a seat as well. The other Preventer left, leaving the three alone in the room.

"Une sent word of Relena's plans for the memorial. I have all of the logistics as far as location and times. I am not really comfortable with the idea of having the memorial here. I think it should be done back on Earth." Noin frowned and looked from one former pilot to the other. She lowered her voice, taking on a more personable nature now that they were alone. "It has been tough here, lately. Everything is chaos. I am glad you guys came, though. We really need some professionals out here. The rookies they keep sending me are eager but not seasoned enough to understand the seriousness of the situation. Everyone serves a year here before being sent somewhere else. It is like a rite of passage. Nobody wants to stay here for any longer than that. I guess I don't blame them it is a hard living. Because of that they simply don't care. Everyone just bears through it just long enough to serve their time."

Noin took a deep breath and looked to Heero. "Une said she thinks you are the next target. That being said, I have raised security in the areas you will be frequenting. I know you probably don't need it, but it can't hurt to be too safe."

She then pulled forth a thick file of print outs and slid it across the table to the two. "This is everything you can possibly want to know about the case. Also, I have listed all the names and reference numbers of all personnel working here. Among other little goodies."

Maps, schematics, and pretty much any bit of data were included. Duo reached over and plucked a few of the maps of the living quarters from the pile and began to study them carefully.

.

Once inside the small, dark room Heero shuddered inwardly as his nightmare reared up in his memory but crushed it quickly, choosing to lean back against the wall rather than sit. "Une sent word of Relena's plans for the memorial. I have all of the logistics as far as location and times. I am not really comfortable with the idea of having the memorial here. I think it should be done back on Earth."

Heero agreed with her about the change in location, but he was certain that having the service here on Mars might encourage the killer to return, and that would give them a chance to capture Merquise's murderer. Noin was speaking to Maxwell about the operations of the outpost, but he wasn't really listening. If he missed anything important he was sure that Maxwell would inform him later.

However, when Noin turned and looked at him he paid attention. "Une said she thinks you are the next target. That being said, I have raised security in the areas you will be frequenting. I know you probably don't need it, but it can't hurt to be too safe." Heero almost laughed aloud. What the hell was this woman thinking, putting more lives in danger to protect his own worthless hide?

She presented them with files next. "This is everything you can possibly want to know about the case. Also, I have listed all the names and reference numbers of all personnel working here. Among other little goodies." He watched Maxwell snag a few of the maps and turned to Noin.

"Rescind the order for additional security. Not only will that alert any potential attackers to our presence here, but it puts additional personnel at risk. I don't need any extra security precautions," he said calmly.

Heero didn't wait for a response from the captain. He pushed away from the wall, exited the room, and pulled up the mental map of the base he'd compiled from the image Maxwell had been studying. If he headed south down this corridor he would find the officers' barracks. He needed to change into plain clothes. Then he needed to gain access to Merquise's room and inspect the scene. If a random serial killer could infiltrate the Orion Outpost undetected, then surely Heero could get into Merquise's room with a top-level clearance.  
>.<p>

Duo had looked up at Heero as he commanded Noin about like she was some sort of lackey and then blinked as Heero just waltzed out of there like he owned the place. Duo sighed and shrugged, before giving Noin an apologetic smile.

"It has been a long trip," he said lamely, gathering up all of the data in the file and tucking it under his arm. "And Heero's been a little on edge. You should probably back off on the security though. It is kind of rude." Duo winked at his little joke and shouldered his bag wearily. "I guess I'll go change and then Heero and I will go poking around for a little huh?"

Noin frowned. She was irritated. They all were, but she was in no mood to quarrel. She had her own investigation to run. She nodded and stood up to see Duo out.

"I made sure you and Heero can use your access cards to get into all high security areas. Be careful. This is a relatively small compound but we don't have a lot of staff. There are a lot of back corners and abandoned areas. We think we have secured the area, but after the other night... well, I am not so sure now."

She walked Duo to the door and stood in the doorway as he exited, her arms wrapped tightly across her chest. Duo thought she looked vulnerable at that moment. Standing there alone in the dim artificial light, her face pale and her eyes tired. Duo nodded and jerked a thumb to the left hallway.

"This way to the Officer Quarters, right?"

Noin merely nodded. Duo saluted and stomped off in the direction of the Officer Barracks. Using his card to get in he stepped through into the large common room. It was laid out just like the Lunar Base, obviously modeled after it. That meant that the logistics should be about the same. He knew where the changing lockers were. He entered them quietly, able to cross the hard steel floors without a sound. He came into the locker room and dropped his bag loudly on the ground. He shrugged off the jacket, then stared down at it, realizing just then it wasn't his own. Then he spotted Heero a few lockers down.

"I think this is yours," he said plainly, reaching out to hand the other pilot his coat. "You know, you could have gone a little easier on her." He said this cautiously, knowing Heero wasn't one to take ridicule easily. "I mean, she was just following orders."  
>.<p>

Heero took his jacket back without looking up. He had been halfway out of his uniform and into jeans and a t-shirt when his partner had come stomping in. Slamming his locker closed and confirming the pin code, he shoved his ID and badge into his back pocket and turned to glare at Maxwell. "She's following Une's orders, and the colonel insists on treating me like I'm some green rookie who can't defend himself because she's worried about me getting myself killed and having to answer to ESUN about it." Heero knew that he was now raising his normally calm and quiet voice, and he was well aware that he was waving his arms around like a lunatic. He just didn't care anymore. He was angry. Hadn't Dr. Wolfstadt said that it was healthy to express his emotions?

"I flew a Gundam in two wars. I mastered an operating system that killed other pilots. I took a direct hit from a chunk of Libra that almost took out a planet. When are these bastards going to stop treating me like a damned child?" he yelled. Heero punched the nearest locker, denting the metal loudly and splitting open his knuckles. He was breathing heavily, glaring at his bleeding fist imbedded in the broken locker door and trying to reign in his berserk temper before he did something stupid.

Heero's iron self-control was slipping, and he didn't know why. He had always been in complete control of his emotions and actions, but something about this case was eating at him. He needed to solve this case. If they couldn't find the person responsible for Merquise's murder all five of them would stand trial for 'crimes' against humanity. Moreover, any of the pilots could be targeted next. Heero could handle himself, but what about Winner, or Chang, or Barton? What about Maxwell?

Heero needed to get out of this locker room and into the crime scene. He needed to work. He needed to feel like he was making progress, not getting reprimanded by Une and the captain. He got his breathing under control and ignored minute trembling in his hands, and spoke as calmly as he could. "Where is Merquise's room?"  
>.<p>

Duo watched Heero's outburst, though he wasn't surprised by his actions. If this was anybody else he could have sat down calmly with them and tried to talk about what bothered them. He knew what pissed Heero off, and he knew that trying to calm him down would make things worse. He had tried that in the past. It never worked. The best thing to do was to carry on as if nothing was wrong and hope Heero would calm down on his own.

At the proposition of work Duo quickly changed into his usual black and red casual getup and fished out a couple of files. One was a map. The other was a list of people who had logged in and out of every room in the compound within twelve hours of Zech's death.

Once he had everything he thought he would need he looked down at the map and found the room number.

"329," he said blandly. "This way..."

He walked out of the officer's area and down the maze of hallways and to the hall where the room would be located. A security checkpoint had been set up on either side of the hall with an armed agent manning each spot. Duo handed the agent his badge. The young man scanned it, wrote something down on a clipboard and stepped aside to allow them access. Once past the checkpoint it was only fifty feet to the closed door. Duo scanned his card again. The red light blinked green and the locks clicked open. Duo grabbed a pair of grey neoprene gloves from a box mounted just outside the door and pulled them on before pushing the door in. The smell of decomposition and stale blood wafted from the open door. It was strong, and Duo hesitated before entering the brightly lit room.  
>.<p>

Heero followed his partner silently. He showed his badge to the flustered-looking agent posted at the checkpoint, glaring like he had in the photo, and stuffed it back into his pocket once past the man. He slipped into the room behind Maxwell without grabbing gloves and surveyed the scene before them.

It smelled like old death in the room. There was blood and brain matter splattered over the off-white linoleum flooring in the main part of the room. More blood had streaked the wall directly behind where Merquise must have kneeled before he was executed. The room was almost devoid of personal effects, but then no soldier kept much in the way of knick-knacks or trinkets on base.

"Do you think that anyone in those files is our killer?" Heero asked while bending to inspect a shell casing on the floor beside a small orange marker. As he'd thought, there had only been one shot fired. He moved into the kitchen area and found the knife that had been used cleaned methodically and left in the tiny sink. "This should have been bagged and taken out of here."

Heero frowned and leaned back against the sink counter, looking around the small kitchen at the sterile white cabinets, the energy-efficient appliances, the pyramid of beer cans stacked beside the microwave.

The pyramid of beer cans.

Alcohol wasn't allowed on any Preventers base. Merquise had had no traces of alcohol or drugs in his system during his autopsy. Why would he have beer in his room? Heero retrieved a latex glove from his jeans pocket and reached forward, using it to lift the top can cautiously. When nothing exploded or ticked, he unstacked the remaining cans, moving them all to the microwave carefully and leaving them atop the small device. As he removed the last can, he found a name scrawled in blood across the patch of counter top that had been concealed by the beer cans.

Moloch.

What the hell did that mean? "Hey, Duo," he called into the living room for his partner. "You might want to come look at this."  
>.<p>

Duo had been staring at the stained floor, his eyes tracing the outline that had sloppily marked where the body had fallen. A tingling feeling slithered up his spine.

"Fuck..." he said reflexively, stepping back away from the horrifying scene. He turned to check the room for vents, and then walked over to the front door and inspected it for any signs of lock picking or tampering.

_"Hey, Duo. You might want to come look at this."_

He left the door and let it click to a close behind him before wandering into the cramped kitchen area. Heero was playing Jenga with some beer cans? No, wait. He was looking at something on the counter top.

"Moloch." Duo read out loud, and then screwed up his nose in distaste. "How nice."

Duo frowned and looked up at Heero. "The guy is cramping my style." He pointed to the name and said casually. "Moloch is the name of a fallen angel from this book I read once." It was a book Father Maxwell had made all of the children in the church read. He was familiar with the name, it had also occurred in the Bible. Duo wasn't quite sure of the details surrounding this character, but he did recognize it. As a kid he was obsessed with the "bad guys" of biblical lore. This made sense in the grand scheme of things. The guy had left a passage on Zech's chest. Now he was writing the name of a fallen angel on a counter top.

"Looks like a signature," he said slowly. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his cell phone. He took a picture of it and stored it. "This was under some cans? Don't tell me, they didn't find this did they?"

Duo grumbled some heated words about rookies and stupid mistakes before picking up a beer can. He turned it over in his gloved hand, inspecting it. It was empty. He sniffed it.

"There isn't supposed to be any beer on the compound." He looked at the other cans and picked them up one by one, inspecting them closely. "So whoever put these here had to sneak them in." He turned on his heels and walked over to the door. He poked his head out and looked at the nearest guard on post. "Hey, you!" He barked, feeling particularly irritated. "Get me the sanitation workers. All of them. I want them to search everyone's trash receptacles. Any banned items are to be listed and bagged, got it?"

The guard blinked, then saw the HCA emblazoned on Duo's ID which now dangled clamped at his hip and thought better than to deny Duo his orders. Once the guard was gone Duo returned to the kitchen and took a deep breath. Heero was losing his cool, now he was on the verge of losing his own. What he wouldn't give to have one of those beers about now.

Heero shuffled over as his partner moved into the small kitchen and watched his gaze fall on the name written on the counter in the dead Lightening Count's blood.

_"Moloch. How nice."_

There was a tone of recognition in his voice that Heero caught instantly. He waited for the man to explain. _"The guy is cramping my style. Moloch is the name of a fallen angel from this book I read once. Looks like a signature."_ Heero agreed. It was left intentionally, and it almost seemed as if the perpetrator somehow knew that the less experienced agents that were always sent to do dirty work like comb crime scenes would overlook it. He knew that a more experienced, veteran agent would check behind the rookies and find it. _"This was under some cans? Don't tell me, they didn't find this did they?"_

Heero almost wanted to join in on the creative curses his friend was muttering under his breath as he inspected the cans_. "There isn't supposed to be any beer on the compound. So whoever put these here had to sneak them in."_ Heero opened his mouth to respond an affirmative when the braided pilot pivoted suddenly, marched to the door, and began shouting at the guard in the hallway. Despite the gravity of the situation, Heero smirked. Maxwell never had been one to dick around when angered.

Heero bagged the cans just in case the killer was dumb enough to leave prints, but he highly doubted the lab would find anything. This guy was smart. Heero just had to believe that the pair of them were smarter, or someone else was going to die. Of that he was certain. When Maxwell returned to the kitchen in all his righteous indignation, Heero glanced at him before returning his gaze to the message on the counter.

"He knew we'd find this. It's important. Serial killers only use signatures when they want the authorities to chase them. Otherwise he would have killed Merquise and left no messages, no clues. He's toying with us."

Before Maxwell could unleash another angry tirade, Heero held his hands up in a placating gesture and sighed. "We should focus on the origin of this name. Moloch," he spat distastefully, "Is how he is defining himself. What was the name of that book, and can you tell me more about the character?" he asked quietly.

The smell in the room was overwhelming, and Heero was fighting his gag reflex with every minute they remained here. With less force than he usually used on Maxwell, he guided his partner from the room with a hand on his back and down the hall. They both needed recycled, if not fresh, air, and space to think. Standing ten feet from Merquise's last stand wasn't going to aid in this process.

When the guard's replacement looked ready to stop them and ask for identification Heero kept moving and shot the man a look that could have melted steel. "HCA Azrael and Dumah. Stop me and I'll unload a clip in you." Despite the good therapist's opinion, Heero found his natural talent for making other agents piss themselves to be quite useful at times.

Once he and Maxwell were around the corner and near an area of the compound less frequented by Preventers personnel, he leaned against a large floor-to-ceiling window, the dry, harsh red landscape outside silhouetting his sturdy frame, and he waited for Maxwell to explain the connection between the name on the counter top and a book he'd read.

.

Once safely from the oppressive murder scene Duo calmed down some. He stared out onto the Martian landscape, taking in the dim light of the setting sun. The same sun would be bringing on a new day in Brussels back on Earth in a few hours, wouldn't it? Duo glanced down at his watch. It displayed Earth time and Universal Space Time. According to UST, it was nearly 1800. Normally he would be ravenous, hungry for something to eat. He had eaten nothing in almost two days. Now he felt nothing but a peculiar numbness. This was one of the hardest things he had to deal with in a long time. The death of a colleague and a legend. The emotional outbursts of a normally unemotional friend. And now being in a strange place, on a strange planet having been thrown into the pit of chaos.

He reached into his pocket and whipped out his cell phone. It was a small rectangular device he had managed to upgrade on his own. With it he could remotely do just about anything through the local network. He would access the network. He opened the application with a tap of his finger and spoke down into the glossy screen, "Moloch."

Information immediately sprang to life on the backlit screen. Duo's dark violet gaze skimmed it before he slid the device back into his pocket.

"That's right... Moloch was one of Satan's chief angels of death. He gave a speech to the parliament of Hell. He called for a war against God."

With a snap he had his gloves off. He pocketed them and looked at Heero with a concerned expression. "Look, this whole thing is giving me the creeps. Ever since we landed here I feel like we stepped in a trap, and the hunter is just waiting to pounce." He cast a suspicious glance around the empty space. It was quiet, practically silent. He touched the grip of his gun reflexively, as if to reassure himself that it was still there.

"If those rookies didn't find such a blatant clue, then they probably wouldn't be able to spot Charlie Manson in a preschool class."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
>Day 3. July 7, AC199<p>

Yesterday's discovery in Merquise's chamber had yielded more questions than answers. The entire outpost was visible hub of nervous activity. The sanitation staff was still searching every trash receptacle and waste bin on the compound under agent supervision, Captain Noin had almost fainted when the HCAs' grisly discovery had been explained to her-and Une, by vidphone-and Relena Peacecraft was scheduled to arrive in less than twelve hours. The colonel had attempted to order Heero back to Brussels under a full regiment guard, but the Wing pilot had laughed outright at the prospect of being guarded by agents he himself had helped to train. Short of a crazed killer showing up on Mars with a Gundam, nothing was going to intimidate Heero into slinking back to the supposed safety of Headquarters with his proverbial tail tucked. If the agony in Captain Noin's eyes hadn't been enough to firm his resolve, the almost manic fervor with which Maxwell had reacted yesterday was.

There was something about the name 'Moloch' that both irritated Heero and stuck to him like some half-forgotten memory. He had read exactly what his partner had. The name was biblical, referenced in a famous pre-Colony work entitled "Paradise Lost" by a British poet in an epic reworking of the Old Testament. Moloch had been one of the seven fallen angels of Heaven, banished to Hell along with Lucifer for betraying God. He had called for full-scale war against God and Heaven's remaining angels in order to establish a reign of terror in the Promised Kingdom. "First Moloch, horrid King besmear'd with blood of human sacrifice, and parents' tears, though for the noise of drums and timbrels loud their childrens' cries unheard, that passed through the dire to his grim idol." Upon reading this excerpt Heero had been struck immediately with the idea that this character was the exact opposite of his partner's 'God of Death' persona. Where Maxwell killed for justice and to free the oppressed masses despite all odds, this Moloch character destroyed the souls of the innocent for entertainment and bathed in their blood, unaffected by their guardians' pleas. This realization was as much enlightening as it was horrifying.

Sequestered into one of the vacated officer's rooms, Heero had set up an array of laptops, surveillance equipment, and monitoring devices in order to ensure both his own safety and that of his partner. He was certain that Maxwell was beginning to question his friend's sanity, but then again the braided man had been acting very strangely since yesterday's gruesome discovery-well, as strange as Maxwell could act while remaining within the bounds of reason. His reaction to the message left beneath those can had been oddly personal. Heero wondered for once in the five years he'd known the other pilot if perhaps Maxwell wasn't being completely honest or open about something. It almost seemed like he knew more than he was letting on.

Heero was probably just being paranoid. He had a bad habit of questioning and over-analyzing things, but it had kept him alive during the wars.

The laptop to his right beeped quickly and he spared a glance away from his digging through the outpost's personnel files to note that Relena's shuttle had cleared the Moon's orbit and had set its bearings for Mars. Right on schedule. He was maintaining an open line of communication with the shuttle's pilot and would meet them on the tarmac to escort her into the compound's higher-security areas personally. Once she was safely under the captain's supervision he and Maxwell would sweep the transport. They still couldn't rule out the possibility that Merquise's murder had been an inside job, which made the compound itself dangerous. Every personnel file that Heero had been through had turned up nothing of interest, nothing suspicious or out of sorts. It was unnerving. It felt as if he were overlooking something so painfully obvious that it would catch up to them later, and that meant lives.

Raking his hand through his hair in frustration, Heero leaned back in his chair and glanced at the shuttle monitor once more before opening a secured terminal line on a different laptop. If the suspect wasn't a Preventers operative, then perhaps he was affiliated with some other influential organization? It was worth a shot. Heero initiated a broad search directory for the term 'Moloch' in the largest inter-galactic database ESUN had compiled, and resigned himself to the fact that the search would take at least a few hours to complete. He crossed his arms over his chest, closed his eyes, and was just managing to doze off when the laptop beeped urgently. His eyes flew to the shuttle monitor, but it was still bound for its original destination and was not hailing a distress signal. Odd. He scanned the other screens and found his search had terminated itself, with single entry displayed in the results.

"LaGrange Point 2 Department of Motor and Space Vehicles," he read aloud. Heero arched an eyebrow at the screen questioningly before pulling up the entry in its entirety with a few keystrokes. It was a record of a custom vanity plate to a motorbike, a bike registered to one Edward Gabriel. Wing's pilot recognized the name instantly as one of his partner's many aliases-Edward from the New Edwards Base where Heero had practically started the war, and Gabriel for the boarding school where they had both spent time undercover while planning to destroy a local military base. Heero's fingers froze over the keyboard.

What. The. Fuck?

The bike was sold by a representative at Maxwell Scrap in August of AC 197, but the registration was never switched over to the new owner. Maxwell had to have sold hundreds of vehicles during the two years he'd run the yard. He wouldn't have noticed one bike failing to update its registration. The buyer could have changed the plates without transferring the registration. The plate could be a complete and utter coincidence. Heero snorted. No way in hell. This was simply too damned convenient. He sprung into action immediately, refining his search to include any bill of sale from Maxwell Scrap during the month of August in AC 197. He received well over fifty results, and tore through them with an unrivaled intensity. He found the particular motorbike he'd been looking for and on the very bottom of the electronically scanned document he found two signatures. One was Maxwell's untidy but familiar scrawl. The other made the hair on Heero's arms stand up. It was the same handwriting that he'd found under a stack of beer cans yesterday. The name read "John Milton."

Heero punched the wall beside his computer array angrily, barely satisfied with the way the drywall cracked and yielded under his fist. John Milton was the man who had written "Paradise Lost." This bastard had been planning this for _years_, and now Heero realized the full depth and scope of the killer's vision. Another dead end. Another useless lead. Another attempt on this psychopath's behalf to string them along and play with them. "We've got to catch this guy," Heero growled over his shoulder to Maxwell. "Please tell me you remember selling this damned bike to a serial killer?"  
>.<p>

Sleep hadn't come easily. Duo was feeling the weight of the investigation heavy on his shoulders. There was a lot if work to be done, so after only a handful of hours of sleep he had awoken sprawled out on the stiff little cot. He had passed out there without even changing out of his clothes. With a bleary consciousness he got up, toed off his boots and began walking towards the showers in true zombie fashion, stripping all the way to the separate room. His shirt was discarded on the floor in his room. His socks, one by one, fell off as he trudged across the common area where Heero had set up his command center.

"Mmmmmmnnn... morning." He greeted the Wing pilot groggily as he unbuckled his pants. Three wobbling steps later the pants were off, and by the time he entered the showers he was in only his black boxers. He vanished into the shower chamber. A few curses, a slip and a resounding 'ooooof' later he was done. He exited the shower more conscious than he had been going in, shuffling along the steel flooring with dampened feet wrapped in a military style towel - hard, crunchy and barely able to wrap around the waist. He had already braided his hair and had the coil resting over his left shoulder where the rest of its length hung dripping across his damp, scarred chest. He inched over to the tiny 3-cup coffee maker where he made quick work of preparing the filter. A minute later he had two mugs of black coffee proudly in his fists. He took a long swig out of one, winced at the stimulating bitterness of it, and then sighed.

It was time for work. Finally fully awake, he approached Yuy from behind saying in his teasing voice, "Sheesh don't you ever sleep?"

He set the mug on the table beside Heero and peered over his shoulder at the screen. Just as he did the other agent had jumped up to punch the wall. Duo jumped as well, startled at Heero's sudden movement. In doing so he managed to splash his coffee over his hand.

"Shit! Fuck man, what the hell?" Duo yelled, shaking off his scalded hand.

"Please tell me you remember selling this damned bike to a serial killer?"

"What?" Duo exclaimed. He slammed down the mug and lunged for the laptop, practically shoving Heero out of the way to see what he was talking about. The name John Milton blazed across his vision. He soon made the connection and scowled. He had sold a bike from his scrap yard to a guy who later put a custom plate "MOLOCH" on it. While it certainly wasn't concrete evidence it was definitely a possible lead. L2. The guy could have been on L2, and even worse... Duo may have met him.

"How the hell am I suppose to remember every loser I sell something to? And before you go on with your judgments, I happened o have sold over five hundred vehicles that year alone."

Duo was irritated. He had a security system installed at the scrap yard, with sophisticated camera technology; however, he hadn't had the recording devices installed until January of 198AC.

He stood in front of the screen, staring angrily down into it. His braid, still sopping wet, dripped rhythmically, creating a small wet puddle at his feet.

He understood the connection. Something had flickered to life in his weary mind. He realized suddenly that whoever this person was had been setting this up for a while. What are the odds of a John Milton registering his bike with the same name they found at the crime scene? It was then that he saw the signatures on the scan.

"So... I met this guy?" He stood up to his full height and rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes never leaving the signature scan on the screen. He tried to think back to that model of bike. It was a common scooter, used all over the colonies. Hundreds of them littered the streets, and he had had more than his fair share of them pawned at his scrap yard.

Pissed, he turned around and stomped across the room, retrieving his wayward socks and pants as he did. "For fuck's sake, this guy is gonna fucking die when I get my goddamn hands on him!" He bellowed in agitation. In his fit he had lost his towel. Too angry to retrieve it, he stomped over to his room with a flash of bare bottom and slammed the door. Once inside he gave the walls a beating of his own.

.

Heero had been prepared for several things that day: dealing with Relena, watching Maxwell's back, gunfights with faceless assailants. What he had not been braced for was his partner wrapped in a flimsy towel body-slamming him away from his computers. He caught himself against the wall and steadied himself with a hand against the cold metal before glaring at the idiot.

_"How the hell am I suppose to remember every loser I sell something to? And before you go on with your judgments, I happened to have sold over five hundred vehicles that year alone."_

Heero snapped his mouth shut on the comment he'd been forming. So Maxwell obviously had no recollection of this John Milton fellow. That was helpful.

_"So... I met this guy?"_

It took more self-control than it should have not to outright stare as his partner straightened in front of the laptops, the blue glow of their monitors reflected in his still-wet skin. Heero dutifully cast his gaze anywhere but at the scars peppered across his friend's torso. He could feel his face heating up and it annoyed him. He was saved from further awkwardness as Maxwell stormed from the common area, shouting obscenities and threats. Wing's pilot was a bit too preoccupied with the distinct lack of towel on the other man to be too concerned with the slamming door or violence being perpetrated against the walls behind it.

Heero briefly wondered if his life would ever gain some semblance of calm and normalcy. He supposed with Maxwell around that was virtually impossible, but he decided he would rather live the remainder of his natural life in chaos and danger anyway.

The laptop to the left of his array gave a short burst of static audio, garnering his attention, and then a middle-aged female agent appeared on the vidfeed. "HCA Azrael?" she asked. He sat down in the desk chair and nodded. "I have the results of the ballistics test performed on the spent shall casings found at the Merquise crime scene. According to the lab the murder weapon was a 9mm standard issue Preventers Beretta. It's the same sidearm registered to HCA Merquise." Heero ground his teeth together in frustration. Of course it was. The ballistics test was another dead end.

"Thank you," Heero said wearily. He cut the connection as the agent saluted him and let his forehead fall against the desk's smooth surface. Of course this Moloch character would murder Merquise with his own weapon. That seemed appropriate for a military-style execution. His search tree for any traffic photos of the mysterious bike were still ongoing. Unless he got lucky, again, he wouldn't have those results for another hour or so. He really wasn't banking on finding anything useful. Heero wanted to break something. Instead, he unfolded from the chair, went to Maxwell's door, and knocked twice before opening it. "Ballistics came back. It was Merquise's gun. I'm going down to the lab to see if the forensic technicians found any prints on the knife or beer cans. You coming?"

.

Duo had just been buttoning up his green uniform shirt when the knock came. Then Yuy's voice echoed in the small, stark empty space.

"Ballistics came back. It was Merquise's gun..."

Duo grunted and effortlessly twisted his tie into a neat knot against his throat. He straightened it, then loosened it into a sloppy, sagging noose.

"I won't be any use in the lab," he replied plainly, attaching the worn leather holster to his belt as he buckled it around his waist. He looked up from his fidgeting to inspect Heero with a casual glance before shoving his feet into his boots. He didn't bother to tie them.

"I am gonna go take a look around," he said cryptically, though caught his tone and raised his hands in defense. "Don't give me any lectures. I know what I'm doin'. I just want to test a few things."

He looked down at his black analog watch. It's face was scratched and clouded from use. It was the same watch he had worn on his first descent to Earth, and though he had been gifted nicer ones he never could bring himself to part with it. His eyebrows twitched as he considered his plans, and then he looked up to regard Heero once more.

"I'll be at the tarmac at 1300 to help you sweep Relena's shuttle." Quickly he holstered his gun and with felt-muted soles silently padded across the room, preparing to push past Heero. Just as he neared him he stopped and firmly grasped Heero's shoulder, a big reassuring grin gracing his previously disgruntled features. "Don't worry I promise I won't get myself killed. You try not to self-destruct or generally maim anybody while I'm gone, 'kay?

He chortled and ducked, dancing gracefully to the side to avoid any blows Heero may have attempted to throw before vanishing with a flurry of braid through the main quarters door.

.

_"Don't worry I promise I won't get myself killed. You try not to self-destruct or generally maim anybody while I'm gone, 'kay?"_ Heero's fist clenched automatically at his side as he watched his friend the braided menace dodge away from him and disappear into the compound. Sometimes he seriously questioned Maxwell's sanity. There had been a murder on this base not five days ago and here the Deathscythe pilot was cavorting around the place like they were on vacation at a theme park.

If Maxwell was even ten seconds late meeting him on that tarmac he would rip this outpost apart to find him. And then he would save the serial killer time and trouble by killing Maxwell himself.

Heero shuffled back out to his laptops and gave them a cursory glance. His search was still working, the shuttle monitor was green, and his vidlink was silent. He could afford to take a quick jaunt to the lab to check in with the technicians in person. He pulled his uniform jacket on over his tee shirt and patted down his pockets for his badge, then holstered his M1911 on his right hip. Keys went into his jacket pocket, his cellular device made its way into his back jeans pocket, and he was just heading for the door when something back on the desk beeped.

Heero froze. That wasn't a notification noise that he had programmed his computers to make. Odd. He backtracked to the glowing terminals and found a window open and scrolling raw code where his vidfeed should have been. What the hell was this? Heero's eyes scanned the code quickly, determining that it was extremely low-level machine language, most likely octal, and he began translating it into binary in his head with some difficulty. Octal wasn't a base system that he used often; no one did anymore. It had become obsolete almost a century ago. From binary it was an easy process to translate it into Base Ten. What he came up with was a repeating number sequence: 087441223187.

Scowling, Heero opened a new search directory on the main monitor and plugged in his translated numeric string. It would probably garner thousands of results, so he made the restriction, completely on a hunch, to pull only information connected to the L2 Colony Cluster. Then he turned to the laptop still scrolling code in an endless loop and began hacking past the invasive program to find its source. With the exception of Maxwell, no one in the galaxy should have been able to breach his data security protocols. This was unbelievable. For every forward progression he made in pinning down the breach, the hacker retreated further into the system, and after four minutes of being led in circles through an infrastructure that Heero himself and built, he growled in anger, stood from the chair, and reached over the monitors to rip the fiber optic line directly from the wall.

Sparks and smoke hissed behind the now-dead laptop. Heero was furious. He was being toyed with like a petulant child, and whoever this maniac was, he was far smarter and more resourceful than Heero wanted to admit. He'd snuck onto Mars, gotten into a Preventers compound, killed a HCA and former Gundam pilot, and had now managed to worm into Heero's command center. And from what they'd found earlier, he had been planning this entire operation for years.

Heero checked the Peacecraft shuttle's progress once more. Satisfied with what he saw, he tore the remaining cables from the wall and left them hanging from the desk. Then he clicked the safety off of his gun and left the room, bypassing the laboratory and searching instead for his partner. He had a strange feeling about the code. He had a bad feeling about the hacker. He was truly concerned about being separated from his partner in the compound, which he was beginning to regard more as a death trap.

.

Duo had things he wanted to test and try out, all of which required crawling around in old dusty service halls and vent systems. Before he fell asleep the night before he had scouted a few routes he thought were reasonable if one was to go about sneaking around unnoticed.

He forgot how hard this actually was on the body. Back in the day he had been much smaller, skinnier and energetic. He had always tried to do weight lifting and running at the Preventer gym to keep himself fit despite his tendency to sit in an office all day, but after scaling the inside of these walls with much difficulty he vowed to increase that workout regimen.

He stopped in a vent shaft just over the east main hall to catch his breath. He had managed to get this far undetected by the increased amount of guards and agents hurrying around just below. So far everything looked Kosher. The vents were dusty and the thick layer of grime built up over the years was undisturbed. If anyone had some this way they would have left a mark in them. This proved one thing for certain: that the killer didn't sneak in undetected. He had to waltz through these halls in plain sight.

Duo had finally caught his breath and was about to turn back the way he came when he saw a pretty young blond woman sitting alone in one of the waiting lobbies. Something about her seemed familiar, but Duo couldn't quite place it. With a grin he snaked through the shaft in her direction. After a minute he was right overhead. She was pretty, with shoulder length yellow-blond hair and a small, slender frame. She was indulged in something she was doing on her laptop. Duo peered through the grate on the vent, trying to get a look at what she was doing. Oddly enough there was nothing on her screen. No social networking as he had been expecting, or official looking reports. Instead Duo saw only a black screen with white numbers scrolling quickly across it. He couldn't make out the pattern.

Just then his stomach growled. Loudly it demanded to be fed. The rumbling sound echoed deafeningly in the shaft. The girl heard it. She jumped and looked around suspiciously.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck…_Duo grit his teeth and willed his stomach to pacify. No such luck. It growled again. The girl flinched at the faint noise and began to turn her head up to look in his direction. With a shove Duo slid his body backward, sliding his stomach back against the rough, dirty metal. His sudden movement made a clunking noise, alarming the young woman even more. She promptly snapped the laptop closed and stood, retreating in the direction of the Officer's Quarters.

What was she hiding? Frantically Duo watched her go. Quickly he dug in his pocket for his screwdriver kit and made quick work of unscrewing the fasteners on the vent. He slid it aside, grabbed the edge and planned to gracefully hop down from it to the floor, which was nearly twelve feet below.

What he hadn't planned on was landing on someone. As he released his grip he prepared for impact with the ground where he would execute a perfect roll landing before pursuing the woman. What actually happened was that he landed face-flat on a soon to be very angry and squishy Heero Yuy.

"Shit!" He yelped as he landed. When he opened his eyes he was staring into a pair of familiar cobalt blues.

"Heero. Um, hi. Good catch."

.

Heero's search for Maxwell had taken him through a good majority of the compound. Everywhere he stopped, no one had seen hide nor hair of the braided wonder, and that concerned Heero greatly. Maxwell was loud. Maxwell was obvious. Maxwell had a single-minded talent for pissing off random strangers wherever he went. That no one on this gods-forsaken base could remember seeing him today was a sign of one of two possibilities: the killer had found his partner, or Maxwell was sneaking around again.

The Japanese HCA was just rounding a corner in the east main hallway when a damned familiar-looking blond woman ran past him, down the hallway and disappeared from sight. Odd. Heero was just contemplating going after her when he heard the distinct metallic noises of a metal grate being moved above him and to his right. Heero's .45 was unholstered and moving towards the opened air vent when a body dropped from the ceiling, knocking him flat on his back in the hallway. He barely managed to retain his grip on his weapon.

_"Shit!"_Oh, that was Maxwell. Heero let his gun fall back against the tile under him, his head falling back against the floor as well. He was so relieved to have found the idiot that the customary urge to strangle the other agent had promptly fled him. Maxwell was sprawled atop him, covered in red dust and dirt from the vents, and watching him warily. Heero decided that Maxwell's eyes were a peculiar shade of indigo that he had never seen before. If he just focused on those eyes and not the lithe body atop his-the body he'd seen completely naked only an hour before-then this situation couldn't get any more awkward. Right?

"Someone got into my network," he said gruffly. Maxwell may not have been the most well-muscled agent in Preventers, but he certainly wasn't the scrawny fifteen year-old kid from the wars. The impact and subsequent fall had knocked the wind from Heero's lungs, but it was imperative that he relay this information. "He knows we're here. He was scrolling octal code, which I converted to decimal. 087441223187," he recited from memory. "I don't know what it means."

Heero considered trying to dislodge Maxwell and get up from his admittedly vulnerable position under the man, but decided against it when he realized he had no idea where to put his hands that could not be misinterpreted as something less than honorable. His watch beeped somewhere near his head and he knew that they had twenty minutes before Relena's shuttle arrived. Heero was beginning to dread this little reunion, as well. He and Maxwell should have kept their asses parked in Brussels. This whole ridiculous situation screamed 'setup' in Heero's brain.

.

Duo was surprised that Heero hadn't decked him. He did, however, notice the gun gripped tightly in the Wing pilot's hand. He was lucky he had been faster in his fall; otherwise that whole clip would have been in his chest. He was most certain of that.

Carefully he pressed his arms to either side of Heero's face and pushed his weight away of the Japanese man's torso.

"Sorry... sorry..." he mumbled apologetically as he did so.

_"Someone got into my network. He knows we're here. He was scrolling octal code, which I converted to decimal. 087441223187. I don't know what it means."_

Duo's eyes widened as Heero reported this new information off to him. Then he raised his gaze quickly to look down the hall in the direction of the girl who had ran away only moments before.

"You were hacked? Then... that means..." Duo hadn't even really heard the numbers Heero had told him. They didn't immediately ring any bells. With a frantic roll he shifted his weight off of his comrade and scrambled to his feet, grabbing his gun in one fluid motion from his side. "That girl. She was just..." He didn't seem to be able to form any complete thoughts. All he could think of was that he needed to catch her before she got away.

He heard Heero's watch beep and glanced down at his own.

"Go receive Relena. I gotta catch that girl!" Suddenly he sprinted down the hallway, nearly knocking a passing agent over in the process. All that was left of him was a small smudge of red dust and a few dissipating boot prints on the white floors.

.  
>Maxwell had rolled, bounded to his feet, and was running full-tilt down the hallway before Heero could really react.<p>

Heero stared up at the metal vents overhead and frowned. What girl? The blond agent that had run from the area when he'd arrived? Why did Maxwell need to catch her? His watch beeped again and he sighed. Heero rolled backwards slightly and then jumped to his feet with practiced ease, wiping reddish dirt and debris from the front of his shirt as he holstered his gun and started towards the tarmac. Just one more day and then he could toss Maxwell onto a shuttle and get the hell off of this planet.

The suit he was handed by the Preventers airspace guard was thick, hot, and in desperate need of washing. It reminded Heero of the form-fitting design OZ favored, not the old-fashioned suits he'd worn aboard Peacemillion at the end of the first war. He supposed it didn't really matter so long as his general mobility wasn't hindered. Heero suited up in record time, left his helmet with the guard, and was out on the enclosed tarmac before the shuttle was in sight. He waited less than three minutes, and when the spacecraft docked and powered down its reverse thrusters he entered the security code in the door to open it. With a hydraulic hiss the door swung open, and inside the shuttle a team of four Preventers agents greeted Heero with their sidearms. His badge cleared up any confusion as to who he was. Donning similar suits, they escorted a tired-looking Relena Peacecraft into the small terminal.

Heero hadn't seen her in person in several years, but she looked quite similar. He supposed they'd all managed to lose the last physical vestiges of their childhood by now. Dressed in a conservative gunmetal grey suit and jacket she looked like every picture he'd seen of her on the vidfeeds or in the papers. Except her smile. That seemed completely genuine, if only for him. "Agent Azrael," she beamed at him. "Where is Agent Dumah?" Her cornflower blue eyes swept the nearly empty terminal for Maxwell, but he was no where in sight.

"He's working on the investigation." Heero was painfully aware of how her eyes brightened at that little tidbit of knowledge, though he hoped it had more to do with their investigating her brother's murder than her having Heero alone. He would never understand the fickle temperaments of women. "We need to get you to the secured section of the outpost as quickly as possible," he said curtly, and then turned and began marching back into the compound. Relena followed, her agent escort taking up the rear of their group.

She attempted to initiate conversation with him at several points during the walk, but Heero was far too preoccupied with accomplishing this assignment successfully and mentally poring over that damned number string. 087441223187. _It had to mean something..._

When they arrived at Relena's temporary quarters he ushered her inside, closed the door firmly behind her, and gave the guards stern instructions that absolutely no one was to come or go from that room unless he had 'HCA' in front of his name. That included her Preventers-assigned security detail. With that goal accomplished, Heero made his way quickly back to the tarmac.

.

Duo had pursued the girl as far as the main receiving dock. He hadn't seen her flee here, but other agents had pointed him in this direction at the prompting of her description. He had stopped in the center of the sparsely populated docks and peered around with his gun raised at the vacuum pods where items received from space would decontaminate. The dark doors of the pods were all open, ready to receive new supplies. Nobody was manning them. Duo assumed that nobody was working in this sector today because all resources were being used to prepare for the Memorial Services, investigation and Relena's inevitable arrival to the compound.

He walked slowly towards one of the pods and peered into its unlit mouth. The control panels were dim and the internal lights were off. The low, pulsing hum of a generator caught his attention. This place was full of solar generators. He had seen the circuitry in the walls and ceilings when he had been traveling through the walls.

Carefully he raised his gun and pressed his back to the first of the eight large pods. The open doors revealed a gaping hole eight feet wide and ten feet tall. Duo was familiar with how to use these. They had the same technology on Earth, when the sweepers would make deliveries or pickups at the docks. Anything from space could be contaminated by radon and other radiation particles from direct exposure to the sun. Not to mention the basalt landscape and iodide particles from Mars itself could land on the equipment transported here, causing accelerated rusting and decomposition. It was common to fill these chambers with palettes of cargo and decontaminate it all at once before the items were sold or distributed among the compound.

Duo felt uneasy. Carefully he inched towards the mouth of the first pod and, in a quick and practiced motion he pointed his gun inside with his right hand. With his left he smacked the light button beside the door. The interior sprang to life with bright white L.E.D. lights. It was empty.

He shut off the lights and moved with catlike agility to the next one. Again he inched close to the opening, waited, listened for any sound of movement then pounced. Lights blared on. Nothing was inside.

He crept up to the third pod. Once again he waited and listened. In the large, empty interior he heard the rustle of hair and a sharply inhaled breath. He smirked and steadied his arm. He counted silently to himself: one… two… three… go! And slammed the light button. The interior of the pod erupted to life, revealing the slim figure of the blond woman he had been pursuing.

She was clutching her laptop against her chest, her large green eyes wide in surprise.

"Now listen, lady. No sudden moves…" Duo said calmly, his gun trained on her chest. He wasn't one for violence against women, but he was ready to protect himself without a second thought. The woman was shaking, but rather than fear in her eyes she looked angry. Enraged.

"I know who you are… " She whispered, her voice echoing against the polyurethane walls. "You… you kill. Now be killed."

She raised her arms over her head and threw the laptop down to the ground. Duo flinched as she did so, the sound of metal striking metal echoes deafeningly in the small confines of the pod. Then, to his surprise, she pulled forth a small revolver from her coat and began to raise it. Duo squeezed his trigger reflexively, shooting her dead in the hand. Her gun dropped to the ground, blood gushing oddly through the air before settling in a fantastic manner against the silver flooring, pooling in an unusual pattern due to the artificial gravity inhibitors.

"Hey now. Calm down. Get on the ground, and put your hands over your head." Duo barked aggressively. The woman shook her head and scowled.

"You fool!" she hissed, and to Duo's surprise she began to run at him. Startled, he took a step back and shot at her, hitting her square in the knee. She faltered but didn't slow in her approach. He could have killed her. He could have easily shot her in the head, but he needed her alive. She had to be the killer, or knew of him.

He shot at her other leg but missed. She lunged at him and within seconds had tackled him to the ground. She was brutal and relentless, scratching and yanking his hair as only women do in heated combat.

Yelling, he finally managed to overpower her. He grabbed her fiercely by her wrists, holding them tightly behind her back. His face was scratched, his scalp hurt and his shirt was horribly disheveled. He had never brawled with a woman before, and he never wanted to again.

Just as he was about to drag her away she began to wriggle against him. Struggling with sweaty palms to keep her hostage, Duo lost his grip only for a moment. It was just long enough for her to kick the control panel to the pod. A red light began to blink just over the door.

"Wait! No, fuck! You stupid bitch!"

The pod closed. Inside the broken laptop became decontaminated, eliminating any possible recovery of data.

Duo wrenched the woman's arm roughly and began to drag her out of the dock. In five minutes he had managed to borrow a pair of handcuffs from another agent and was dragging her along beside him out onto the tarmac. He was eighteen minutes late.

.

The airspace guards had formed a ragtag little group on the edge of the tarmac as they watched a fabled HCA pace the asphalt like a man obsessed, glaring down at his watch every thirty or so seconds. The man was visibly agitated, and when another HCA came into the docking station with a fellow agent in cuffs the first HCA looked up from his watch and started shouting. "Where the hell have you-"

Maybe it was the sight of the blond woman bleeding from obvious gunshot wounds that silenced his angry tirade. Maybe it was the disheveled state and bloody scratches and bruises adorning his partner. "What happened?" he asked in much calmer tone.

The woman looked furious, struggling and wriggling against the iron grip Maxwell had around one bicep. She was practically spitting when Heero stopped in front of her and recognized her instantly as the strange agent he had spotted on their floor at Headquarters four days ago, and the agent he had watched run off before Maxwell had tackled him from the ceiling earlier today. Heero's gaze slid from the name patch on her Preventers jacket-Jackson-to his partner's face and felt his temper boil over.

Maxwell looked like he'd picked a fight with a pride of angry lions and lost spectacularly: split lip, bruised jaw, cuts and abrasions to his face and neck. His braid had come half undone from its customarily neat state and his hair was actually ripped in places. Heero reached out and grabbed the woman by the throat before slamming her roughly into a nearby wall and pinning her there. She bent awkwardly over her bound wrists, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out in pain. Heero found himself clenching his own jaw with the conscious effort of not crushing her larynx. "Dumah, explain. Now."

.

Duo couldn't help but feel sorry for the woman as the thoroughly irritated and somewhat homicidal-looking Heero thrust her against the wall. At the request for a report he went to scratch his head, forgot the tenderness of it, and decided to shrug his shoulders instead.

"When I was searching the vents I saw her working on her laptop. I went to check her out and saw she was running some sort application on her screen. It looked encrypted. She seemed on edge, and when she heard me she took off. I went after her, and apprehended her..." His eyes drifted from Heero's face to the woman's. Her words haunted his thoughts, fresh in his mind as if she were now repeating them.

"You kill..."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index finger and sighed. "Unfortunately she destroyed the laptop."

Duo had dabbled in quite a bit of computer forensics, and he knew that the laptop was a goner. The electromagnetic pulses used for microscopic abrasion of radiation would have surely fucked the motherboard. It may be capable of salvaging, but it would take months. Even with a team of M.I.T experts he didn't think they would even find anything.

Duo's face may have been thoroughly screwed and his hair fallen to pieces but he wasn't phased. It wasn't the first time he had been in a fight, and it wouldn't be the last. He was used to being punched and smacked around. Heero had strengthened his endurance to that sort of thing. He knew the woman would need medical treatment soon. He had all but shattered her kneecap, and her trigger finger was slightly severed from her hand. He studied her closely for a moment before looking back at Heero.

"So, Relena land safely?"


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR  
>Day 5<p>

The memorial service had been a depressing affair, but it had gone off without a hitch. They had seen Relena off successfully on the transport shuttle back to Earth and then resolutely gone completely off the radar, commandeering a private shuttle from an easily intimidated contractor in the colonized side of Mars and heading for the L2 Colony Cluster; specifically, they were going to pay Maxwell Scrap a visit. Despite Heero's heightened state of awareness and general stress level, he had slept like a baby the second that Maxwell took over flying their spacecraft. When he awoke several hours later it was to the braided pilot communicating via headset with the airspace control towers to get clearance to land their shuttle.

Agent Mariam Jackson had been little more than useless under interrogation. Heero had stood in the corner of the room and watched his partner grill the obstinate woman for hours, but they hadn't gotten much information out of her. They knew that she was indeed the mole in Preventers who had leaked the classified personnel files, but she had been nothing but a gateway for the real criminal mastermind, whom they still hadn't even identified. She spoke of Moloch with a passionate fervor that irritated Heero, espousing his beliefs that the Gundam pilots were nothing more than unorthodox guerrilla terrorists and obvious threats to galactic peace. He'd wanted to hit her on more than one occasion. She had been especially well informed about Heero's background and involvement in both wars. That had unnerved him like nothing he had experienced before.

She had been very adamant about them going to L2. She had said more than once in her hate-laced diatribe that Moloch had wanted to lure them to Orion Outpost, but the additional security had made him scrap his original plans of killing one of them there. Relena's presence had not been anticipated, it seemed, and Heero was chagrined to admit that Captain Noin's request for additional personnel might have indeed saved them from a lethal situation during the memorial. Heero felt that they were again playing directly into the killer's hands by following her instructions to go to L2, and he was a bit concerned about Colonel Une's potential reactions to discovering that two Gundam pilots under her supervision had gone AWOL. It would take Preventers several days to catch up to them, though, and Heero hoped to have apprehended Moloch by then.

They were out of the shuttle and exiting the spaceport within half an hour of docking. Both agents had decided to refrain from using their Preventers IDs and badges unless absolutely necessary; doing so would only expedite Colonel Une's eventual rendezvous, and neither pilot was looking forward to that disastrous encounter. The colony on which Maxwell Scrap operated was one of the more impoverished, corrupt, and slummed satellites in the L2 district, and Heero was slightly overwhelmed by the paranoia that seized him as he stalked his partner down dark alleyways and badly-lit streets. Their first goal was to find a safehouse. Staying at the yard itself was too obvious. Then they would go through every shred of paperwork, physical or electronic, that they could find pertaining to the sale of that motorbike. Heero was itching to get his laptops set up and begin a more thorough manual search for the history of those plates dated after the bill of sale he'd already found.

That numeric string was still bothering him, though. Maxwell hadn't said a thing about it since he'd first asked him, but now Heero felt it pertinent for the other agent to really _think_ about it. "087441223187. Duo, that _has_ to mean something," he said softly. He'd had the eerie sensation of being watched since they'd stepped foot out of the spaceport.  
>.<p>

Duo felt oddly at ease here on his home colony. He had gone through this terminal and spaceport many times, and the flight from Mars to L2 was old hat. He was glad to have gotten his own transportation and used it to their full advantage.

He shouldered his bag and led the way onto the dark streets, through mazes of winding alleyways and narrow corridors. It was one of the bad things about this colony. Rather than knock down old buildings and construct new ones they merely built on top of the historic ones, making the place look more like a shamble of confusing corners and run down homes. Duo knew his way well. He navigated the colony effortlessly, leading Heero silently through a center square riddled with dark looking people who didn't bother to look up from their silent exchanges as they passed by.

Duo knew a safe place. He knew so many safe places here in this isolated space city. He had grown up here, and because the city never changed the places had to still be there.

One such place he had stayed right before he stowed away with Deathscythe for the mission. He followed the main watershed and sewage line for a long while without speaking before coming to a four-story building between a 24-hour food mart and a strip club called the "Rabbit Hole".

The building was unmarked. He walked up to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. Then he turned to look at Heero with a grin.

"Stay here," he said, handing the other pilot his bag. He vanished around the brick corner, squeezing between the close-set buildings into the darkness of the shadows. He climbed the fire escape in the back, slid through the broken window then carefully inspected the building. It was run down, but still had the same meager cot he had left in there before. The building was owned by one of the wealthy old men who actually stayed on L2. He had died before Duo had left for Operation Meteor, leaving his old rental properties vacant. They were still owned by him now, and so they weren't passed on to anyone else.

He made sure the building was clear before descending the stairs to let Heero inside. After the other pilot entered he locked and bolted the door. And, for extra precaution, he reached down to his watch and pulled forth a little pin from the side of it. The pin had a small magnet attached to it. He stuck the magnetic pin on top of the doorknob. If it turned the pin would fall, and if the pin detected a change in its location it would alert his watch. As he was rigging the door he heard Heero mention the number again.

"08...744." Duo echoed, turning to look at Heero. "That is the name of this colony."

He felt uncomfortable. He led Heero up the steps to the top floor and to the room where he had once before made a safe haven. He took his bag from Heero and set it on the open cot. Then he dug around in the dusty closet and pulled out another cot, setting it up opposite to his own.

"And 1223187..." Duo sat down on the edge of the cot and buried his face in his hands, thinking. It had been a rough couple of days. The memorial was sad, and watching Noin break down in front of her agents was difficult sight to behold. The woman they had interrogated was a whack-job. She couldn't tell them anything other than recite that fucking obnoxious literature of Milton's. Not only that, but Duo's face was still marred from the encounter with that nut job, and in the fight she had pulled a huge bit of his hair out. Relena had been kind enough to personally try to fix it, but it was hardly salvageable. Half of the braid had been ripped, leaving a braid that only settled just below his shoulder blades, rather than to the back of his thighs. He felt strange, his shoulders and head felt light. It was as if a part of him was missing. He felt stupid for thinking these things. These were sentimental, emotional thoughts that weren't very important... but it was to him. He had never cut his hair, not since he was a kid.

The numbers. What did they mean? So, V08744 was the colony... what were the last ones?

Duo froze. A chill rushed through his feet and up to his shoulders. He looked up from his hands and said very quietly, "Solo..."  
>.<p>

Heero looked up sharply from his vigilant watch over what he assumed were dealers down in the alley alongside the building. Maxwell didn't sound like he usually did. He heard "Solo," but Heero had no idea who or what that was.

The building was hardly an adequate shelter, and Heero had to wonder how it was that his partner had managed to grown up and survive in this shit-hole of a colony. The conditions in which these people lived were absolutely deplorable; frankly, Heero was shocked. Two rusted, moth-eaten cots were their new pallets, an indefensible building was their safe house, and he was positive that the scent of despair and hopelessness hung thick in the mechanically processed air. He could hear the harsh metal grating of the colony's oxygen recirculation systems churning, but he'd felt light-headed since he'd gotten off the shuttle.

It was a miracle that Maxwell had lived long enough to pilot a Gundam. Now he was perched on the edge of his haphazard cot with a haunted look on his handsome face. Heero, once again, had the distinct impression of something being inherently wrong. He moved away from the window and crouched down in front of his partner. "What is 'Solo'?" he asked, making a real effort to keep his voice neutral and undemanding. Maxwell seemed on-edge, and more so than usual.  
>.<p>

Duo frowned. He wasn't one to get all emo on anyone, but the numbers would make sense if they were indeed in reference to what he thought of.

"The numbers... they led us here. They knew we were coming here." He cradled his chin in his hands and stared over Heero's head at the gray plaster crumbling off of the far wall. "When I was a kid there was another kid, he was my best friend. He didn't have a name either, since he was an orphan too. We came up with this idea, that he would be alone but when I was with him we would be two. So I called him Solo and he called me Duo." His eyes glazed over as he remembered being a small, scavenging child in these streets. He had done terrible things then, before he had been a Gundam pilot. He had fought for survival then. He had stolen and hurt others before Father Maxwell had taken him in. Reflexively he reached around to grab the now significantly shorter mass of hair braided against the back of his neck, the tattered end frayed from the fight a few days before. He absently stroked it.

"Anyway, he died. A plague was rolling through here, and a bunch of kids died. That was December twenty-third, AC 187." Duo's eyes flit down to Heero. "I guess that number matches. 12... 23... 187."

Duo bit his lip and blanched. "You know... whoever this guy is, he's a real fucking sick-o. Why would he bring any of that shit up?"

He sat up and flung his arms out in exasperation. "I am sick and tired of chasing this prick around. It feels like any one of us will die next, and I don't like having a faceless enemy. This guy is playing mind games, and I don't have the patience for it."

He noticed Heero's distasteful expression as he looked around the room and sighed. "The Scrap Yard is a lot better than this, I promise. We'll go there first thing in the morning. Hilde should be there, or maybe Joe..."  
>.<p>

Heero cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "I'm not that concerned with these conditions; I'm more interested in the security of this building," was all he could say without hounding Maxwell about what he'd just confessed of his past. He'd read some of this information in Maxwell's Preventers file, but there had been no mention of the origins of his partner's name, what had happened to him before he'd first been reported as living at an orphanage, or any reference whatsoever to a boy named 'Solo.'

In hindsight, Heero had to agree with his friend's analysis of their suspect. Leaving the name of Heero's dead mentor carved into Zechs Merquise had been appalling; hacking into Heero's laptop to scroll the death date and location of Maxwell's childhood friend... He wondered briefly if they would find more bodies, perhaps adorned with cryptic references to the skeletons of the other pilots' closets, as well. Heero didn't bother to reign in his dejected sigh. He sat back on the floor at Maxwell's boots and allowed his shoulders to slump.

"I don't like this any more than you do," he muttered. "But we're going to find this nutcase. He's somewhere on this colony. He wanted us to come here, and I doubt it was just to lead us on some wild chase. Everything we've found points to L2." Heero ran a hand through his unruly hair and tried to smile at his partner, but he doubted it actually registered. "We'll find him, and I'll help hold him down while you beat the unholy shit out of him."  
>.<p>

Duo grinned at the prospect of getting to beat the shit out of this guy with Heero. He looked around the room. It wasn't entirely secure, but it was secure enough. It was the best he could do without having pay for a hotel room or something. He knew that his apartment would be monitored, especially if this guy was crazy enough to orchestrate this whole thing. He wouldn't leave a single detail out. Duo worried that his credit card information would be traced if he got a hotel, and here on L2 it was illegal to carry cash. Crime was too high, so nobody would accept it and the law enforced credit only. That was so the druggies couldn't mug you for anything but your shoes.

"I hid out here so many times before, when I was a kid. Back then a family lived on the first floor. Whenever we showed up they would let us stay up here. It was the nastiest room in the place and the landlord was too lazy to renovate it. He didn't mind as long as we didn't use any resources like water or electricity." Duo pointed up at the where the light fixture in the ceiling used to be. Someone had cut the wire, leaving it open and hanging out of the discolored, yellowing ceiling.

He sighed and looked at the cot. It was the same cot that had been here for as long as he could remember. He pat it with his hand. A little cloud of dust drifted up from where he had unsettled it.

"Gross huh? You're probably wondering how I even survived here. I wonder that myself." He gave an ironic smile before shrugging off his jacket. He was feeling nostalgic and open.

"That Odin Lowe guy... was he like a dad to you?"  
>.<p>

Heero reached back and unholstered his M1911, laying it in his lap before leaning back on his hands on the floor and frowning. "Not exactly." He supposed that Maxwell was fishing for information to counteract what he had just divulged to him. It was fair, after all. "He taught me how to fire a gun at five years old. He taught me how to build a bomb at seven. At eight I went with him on an actual assassination. I can't say that I have ever had a father figure, but I doubt that fathers are supposed to expose their sons to that sort of thing."

Heero remembered almost nothing of the day Odin Lowe had been gunned down by Dekim Barton. There had been a deviation from the original plan, and they had been separated. The mission had been completely compromised. He had gone to rendezvous with Lowe once things had gone haywire. He recalled being very confused. He had found his guardian lying in a pool of his own blood, shot through the heart...

The Japanese agent suppressed a shudder and looked up to meet Maxwell's eyes. "I've never had a dad," he said quietly. "I don't think I ever needed one." He paused and looked away, watching what he assumed were mice scurry along the stained baseboards under Maxwell's cot. "How did you avoid coming down with that plague?"  
>.<p>

"I never got close to anyone," Duo replied flatly, his eyes locking onto Heero's face. This felt weird. Having Heero sit there, relaxed, talking to him about something personal and not about logistics or the mission or about how he was annoying him was something Duo wasn't accustomed to. They had known each other for years. After the war they had been forced to be together for a long time in that godforsaken office doing droll and boring missions for that glorified cougar, Colonel Une.

Heero was quite possibly the only friend Duo had ever had for such an extended period of time, and yet he knew very little about his past. Though, come to think of it, the past didn't really matter. It was Heero as a person he didn't know anything about. He had never really tried to get to know him, at least not after trying initially when they had first met. That was Heero then. He was much colder and aloof than he was now.

Part of Duo felt guilty for not considering this before. He knew Heero hated when he spun his pens at work, or took things and moved them on his desk, or whistled when he took a piss... but he didn't know anything else. Anything personal.

Being here in this dark, dusty room brought back memories of sitting on the floor with his friends doling out the food they had stolen that morning. They talked about girls and what they remembered of their families. Duo had lied about not letting anyone close to him. He had. Solo was the only person he told his darkest thoughts to. He was his best friend. Even as a child he was attached to him, and the loss of Solo hurt far worse than anything Duo could even remember up until this point.

The only thing that could be worse was if he lost Heero.

"Hey, are we friends?" Duo asked bluntly, caressing the chopped edge of his braid again. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable, as if he had overstepped his boundaries. It was easy to do with Heero. He backpedaled in the conversation and tried to recover his statement. "I mean, since I have known you for so long and all. I don't know, I mean, we have always been partners for missions but, ya know... I don't know. Just forget it, I'm an idiot."

He got up abruptly and began unarming himself, setting his gun on the cot where his head would be. He balled up his jacket and made a makeshift pillow before yanking off his tie. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, rolled up his long sleeves to the elbows and flopped down on the moth eaten cot, arms tucked underneath his head.

"I know this place like the back of my hand. Go ahead and sleep. If someone comes down that alley or sets one foot on that fire escape I'll know it."

He had spent countless hours in the night afraid that the bigger kids would get him, holed up here in this nasty little room. He stared up at the ceiling and crossed his legs. He kept his boots on, afraid the mice would try to take a nip at his socks.

.

Now where the hell had that come from?

Heero was experiencing something that had only happened to him twice before in his relatively short life. The first time had been when he'd self-detonated in Wing. The second had been when Relena had kissed him aboard Libra at the latter end of the first war. It was an odd combination of every shred of common sense in his body screaming at him to run and that deer in headlights feeling that only one of Maxwell's random offhand comments could provoke. When Wing had exploded around him, he remembered thinking for a split second that he hadn't really expected the detonator to work. When Relena had accosted him in the middle of, at the time, the single most important and dangerous battle of his life, he remembered thinking that he hadn't expected it to feel so hollow and meaningless.

Right now Heero had no idea what to say. Maxwell was attempting to speak to him on a level that no one ever had. His training and experience was failing him. Were they friends? Heero wasn't sure. He knew the textbook definition of 'friend.' He also knew that the other pilots often referred to he and Duo as their friends. But, just as Heero had a certain gut feeling about the proper role of a 'dad,' he knew that 'friend' didn't quite define how he saw his partner.

Heero didn't think that friends leaped from thirty story buildings together. He didn't think they stole each others' suit's parts. He didn't think they shot each other. He didn't think they hit each other all the time, or purposefully annoyed each other because that was the only common language they understood. He didn't think that friends risked their careers and civil liberties to gallivant across the solar system after a murderer because they were silently terrified that their partner was next.

Maxwell was the only person that Heero knew who dutifully braved the constant threat of violence and his intimidating expressions to remain in his presence when it wasn't required by Preventers order. The other pilots kept in touch, but Deathscythe's pilot had become a constant and insistent presence in his daily life.

Were they friends? Yes. But they were partners before that. They were a team before that. Heero scowled at Maxwell's form across the dark room and got to his feet. He walked the two feet to the spare cot and collapsed onto the blasted thing, ignoring the squeal of protest it gave under the sudden burden of his weight. He rolled onto his side, turning his back on his partner in the dark, and cradled his gun under his chin, his head pillowed on his arm.

Before he willed himself to sleep he muttered into the darkness enveloping them like a false sense of security. "You're the only friend I've ever had."

.

Duo stared up at the ceiling as Heero settled into the cot. He knew he had put the other pilot on the spot and he had felt bad for it. He didn't expect him to respond. But, when he heard Heero's quiet voice through the heavy blanket of darkness he blinked then smiled a crooked, pleasant smile.

"Cool."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE  
>Day 6: L2 Colony Cluster<p>

It had been a quiet night. Duo had thought it would be as such. The population of L2 was dwindling, far smaller than it had been when he had lived there as an orphaned child. The ESUN had been doing welfare missions there recently, Duo knew. The children of the streets were being taken away to Earth and put in foster homes away from the colonies. This meant that the children of the streets weren't growing to be the future thugs of the street. Thu the crime was decreasing.

That didn't help the reputation of the colony. It was still just as unsavory and run down as it had been years before. The streets were just quieter now.

Duo woke to a faint whirring noise he immediately recognized as the artificial solar bulbs charging and preparing to fire to life. Curfew was soon to be lifted and the start of the artificial "day" was only a few minutes away. With a grunt he sat up and yawned, rubbing his head and checking his hair for any roaches or mice that decided it would have made it a good nest. After establishing that he was free of critters he hopped up to his feet and took in his surroundings. The room looked smaller than he had remembered it. He and twelve of his little orphaned comrades had once been able to sleep comfortably here. Was he ever that small? With his trademark silence and stealth he holstered his gun and slipped his coat on. It was cold. That was typical for this colony. They turned off the climate control at night to save power. The dry cold of space always managed to seep in through the metal and by morning the colony was always uncomfortably chilly.

He stretched his arms over his head and yawned widely before looking down at Heero. The Japanese man was curled up on the cot with his eyes closed. Duo never knew if Yuy was asleep or not. He could only assume that he was. His breathing pattern seemed to match this notion. He recalled their awkward, rather uncomfortable conversation from the night before. At first Duo wasn't sure it had actually happened. Maybe he had only imagined Heero murmuring that small confession.

Nah. It had to have been real. At least, Duo was going to pretend it was. With a smile he inched closer to Yuy and peered over his shoulder. The former Wing pilot had his gun nestled under his chin, a protective hand draped over the grip. He looked so calm, almost serene, like a child hugging a teddy bear in the midst of a candy-coated dream. If Duo knew he wouldn't be gutted for it, he would have taken a picture.

He smirked and hovered even closer to Yuy, risking getting a fist in the nose. He grabbed the tip of his significantly shorter but surprisingly long braid and used the split ends at the tip to tickle Heero's nose.  
>.<p>

Heero was ripped from sleep by the certainty that he was being attacked by some manner of disease-riddled, rabies-carrying L2 creature. His fight-or-flight response, already finely tuned, kicked in, overriding his common sense. He knew without opening his eyes that shooting at it was a bad idea; he might accidentally hit his partner or alert someone to their presence there. Instead, he reached out blindly in the dark, grabbing its tail and yanking it to the floor as he rolled from the creaky old cot.

He had it pinned to the floor roughly in a matter of seconds, and it wasn't until the beast spoke that Heero realized it was no animal at all, but his idiot friend. Then there was a certain amount of embarrassment that colored the Japanese agent's stoic face. "Damn it, Duo," he growled, pushing himself to his feet rather groggily and yanking the other man up by one arm. "One of these times you'll end up in traction," he muttered under his breath, turning and gathering his gun and jacket.

If last night's awkward conversation hadn't been bad enough, Heero had just found himself touching the other man from knees to shoulders for the second time in three days. He was beginning to wonder if Maxwell was doing this shit on purpose, though he supposed no one ever plans on falling out of a ceiling. Now his adrenaline level was dangerously high and this hellhole of a room felt to be closing in on him. Heero chewed his lower lip silently before making the decision to turn and leave the room. He stormed down half-rotted stairs and cracked tile, past improperly disposed of garbage, vermin, and empty liquor bottles. Maxwell had practically grown up surrounded by this filth. It was no wonder that he was a little emotionally... damaged.

The front door to the place glowed like a beacon around the edges as he stalked towards it. He twisted the knob roughly, felt the cheap metal give way and crumple under his fingers, and he wrenched the blasted thing open before nearly stumbling out into the alleyway from the previous night. He needed to find the scrap yard. He needed to do some kind of work. He needed to stop relating everything on this godforsaken colony back to Duo Maxwell.

Heero leaned back against the side of the building, trying to figure out which way to go, but he hadn't bothered to study any maps of the area. He had been relying completely on Maxwell for guidance. The word 'mistake' rang through his mind like a silver bell. With a barely suppressed sigh he decided to wait for his partner to exit the building, rather than wander through the back alleys of L2 alone. It wasn't that Heero was afraid; he could handle himself. However, if he was forced into an altercation, Une would find them that much faster. At least with the braided pilot to lead the way they would most likely avoid any potential conflicts.  
>.<p>

Duo had been expecting to receive a certain amount of muscle from his Japanese friend. He had been trying to wake him up, and what was wrong with having a little bit of fun with it. He hit the ground hard but with practiced ease fell limp against the creaking floor.

Then he laughed and watched as the disgruntled Heero got hurriedly dress and retreated from the building. He took his time doing the same, looking around as he descended the stairs in the increased morning light. He picked up the pin that had fallen off of the doorknob when Heero had yanked it open and replaced it in his watch. He tapped it a few times, resetting the system, and then exited out the front door after locking it. He didn't know why he locked it. It just felt like the right thing to do.

He squinted up at the luminescent domes flickering rather weakly compared to the artificial light Duo had encountered on the other colonies. He walked past a dying tree and around the corner to where Heero was brooding and smiled brightly.

"Sleep well? Got any curious rashes developing in parts you don't wanna mention?" He winked playfully before wandering past him, knowing Heero had no idea where he was or where he was supposed to go. Duo was in no hurry to get there. He meandered through the dilapidated streets like a tourist, taking in the sights. He was logging in every detail he could of the place. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to come back after Une got her hands on him, or if the ESUN got their way and tried him. Duo wasn't very keen on being locked up. He had tried that a few times before. It wasn't his cup of tea.

He didn't say much to Heero as he led him down one of the main streets that belted the main of the colony, other than pointing at the occasional run down establishment and mentioning things like; "don't ever eat there" and "the guy who runs this chopped up his parents."

Finally he came to a tiny park located in the "uptown" section of the colony. The park was a ghost town, and only one little kid was in the playground. He was moving slowly and sliding down the long, metal slide with hardly any childish enthusiasm.

"Hey, Carl. Long time no see, huh?" Duo said to a nearby hot dog vendor who was reading a newspaper near the park benches. The man jumped up and folded the paper under his arm.

"... do I know you? Oh... wait. It can't be. Maxwell's boy!" The elderly man approached him quickly and clapped his hands on Duo's shoulders. "Well look at you! I never thought I'd see you again, you little imp! What are you doing here? Last thing I heard you were under arrest for war crimes?"

Duo opened his mouth to respond but then swallowed heavily. "Well, yeah... um... no... urr..."

"Well we all do things we regret. You know I won't hold it against ya," Carl replied cheerfully. He smiled, and as he did his whole face seemed to crease into one big, greasy wrinkle. "Want a dog?"

"Heck yes I do!" Duo exclaimed, jumping at every chance for food. "Hey, can my friend here have one too?"

"Sure! Any friend of Duo's is a friend of mine." Carl dug around in his old, but surprisingly clean cart for a couple of minutes before producing two hot dogs covered in every condiment imaginable. He wrapped them in paper wrappers before handing them to Duo.

"There ya go, my boy. Where you headed?"

"Ah, going to the yard. You gonna be okay, ya old coot?" Duo asked brightly before taking a huge bite out of his hot dog, in the same motion he had shoved the sloppy mess into Heero's hands.

"I'll be good. You take care of yourself, kid." Carl thumped Duo on the back hard. Duo almost choked on the bite he had taken. He swallowed it down and then smiled. They both laughed then with a wave Duo grabbed Heero's sleeve and led him in the opposite direction of Carl's hot dog cart and to the northern end of the park. Once they were safely out of hearing range Duo remarked casually, "Carl is one of the biggest drug lords on this side of L2. Nice guy."

He choked down the rest of his hot dog hungrily before discarding the wrapper in a garbage receptacle as they passed. Not that he should have bothered. There was trash everywhere, even piled up around the empty trash bin.

After walking another two blocks he stopped at the corner and checked his watch. Thirty seconds later a trolley screamed to a stop in front of them. He pushed Heero onto the back row and then slid to a sit beside him, propping up his feet on the back of the seat in front of him. The trolley had a few other patrons sitting sullenly near the front. All men wearing poorly fitted suits with dark, exhausted expressions.

"We ride this baby for about ten minutes, then we're there." He stretched his arms over his head before nudging Heero's arm with his elbow. "How you liking that hot dog?"  
>.<p>

Heero was always amazed and disgusted with the sheer amount of calories and cholesterol his partner could inhale in a five minute time period. It was unreal. While he was more than a little leery of the 'fixins' atop his 'hot dog' he discovered that it was actually pretty tasty.

There was no protest as he was ushered onto what resembled a train car with no windows. He sat dutifully in the uncomfortable wooden seat beside his fellow agent, blue eyes scanning the other passengers for potential threats. All he found were tired-looking office workers and single mothers with small children. "How you liking that hot dog?" Maxwell was poking him again. That was developing into another of his annoying habits. Heero almost smiled.

"Acceptable," he murmured. The trolley rumbled along a rusted, ancient-looking track, carrying its weary occupants past boarded-up buildings and old warehouses. What a dump. Heero thought it mildly miraculous that Maxwell had grown up here without becoming a trigger-happy, drug-abusing maniac. Or maybe the signs hadn't begun showing yet.

There were several trolley-goers shooting Heero curious looks, so he leaned back in the seat and tried his best to look inconspicuous. Unfortunately, Heero Yuy exuded a natural quality that screamed 'fucking threat' and looking nonchalant was not his specialty. Stealth and infiltration specialist he was not; that dubious honor belonged to Barton. Heero forced a quiet yawn and stretched his arms over his head, bringing one down along the back of the seat behind Maxwell's shoulders. He did all of this as casually as he knew how, which meant that he fumbled, accidentally hit Maxwell in the back of the head with his wristwatch, and attracted the attention of a small, curly-haired girl in the seat directly in front of them.

Balancing on her knees, the girl peered over the back of her seat, pigtails bouncing with the movement of the trolley. Heero tried to smile at her, but it must have translated poorly because her brown eyes widened comically and she made a whimpering noise before sinking down in the seat. Heero scowled. What use was he going to be on this mission if even kids saw him as a threat? He was nothing better than a trained attack dog.

He hadn't realized he'd spoken that last bit allowed until Maxwell spoke up beside him. Heero realized that this was getting to be an obnoxious habit. This was, most decidedly, the worst week of his young life.  
>.<p>

Duo, as usual, was painfully oblivious to Heero's arm around him. Which may have been better for Yuy in the long run, otherwise the American would have pointed it out and done something risqué in public. He laughed as the little girl ran scared of Heero's attempt to be friendly.

"Hey now, Heero. Careful. You're starting to come off cute." He made a little 'tsk-tsk' gesture with his finger before laughing loudly, scaring the little girl even more. He could have sworn he heard her cry for her mommy.

The trolley clanged to a stop right in front of an enormous building. By all accounts it could have been a warehouse, but the blazing neon green sign on the front glowed the words "MAXWELL SCRAP" in the most obnoxious font imaginable. The front of the shop was graced with a giant picture window and a steel door, all reinforced with steel grating and bars. Around the back of the building was a high security fence with barbed wire and little signs with lightning bolts on them to warn any prospective thieves to rethink their midnight plans wisely.

He exited the trolley and sauntered up to the door. He tried the handle. It was locked. He blinked and peered through the darkened window.

"That's funny. Someone should have opened the shop by now." He shrugged and put his hand over a small slit in the brushed steel wall beside the door. Out popped a keypad. He dialed in about twenty numbers. A green digital light blinked over the top of the door and the lock clicked. He grabbed his gun from the holster and raised it at the ready.

"Can never be too careful these days," he said aloud more than to anyone in particular. He knew that Heero would have agreed that this wasn't the least paranoid of him.

He shoved the door in and, knowing this place as well as he knew his own foot, smacked the lights on. The fluorescent glowed faintly before bursting to life.

Nobody was in the front room. Duo padded across the main shop, around the counter to the back storage room. He kicked the door back and cleared it as well. Nothing. Nobody.

"Well, coast it clear. But where the hell is Hilde? Where is Joe? Seriously, no wonder I am not making any money on this place."

He walked over to the phone on the counter. The voicemail screen was blinking a "FULL" message. He tapped it. The first call beeped in. There was nothing but dead air. The second message was the same. Duo frowned and forwarded it to the next one. It too had nothing but dead air. Ten messages later finally a voice spoke up over the speaker. It was a computerized voice. It was monotonous, emotionless and had no inflection.

It was saying numbers that had been scrolling through Heero's network. Over and over again, each message was the same. Twenty-four eerie messages filled with a computer voice speaking out the numbers.

Duo was pissed. He slammed his fist against the small black box and screamed, "That fucking prick! I am so tired of these fucking games!"

Angry, he stormed into the back room and pulled out a large file box, throwing it to the floor. As it hit the ground loose sheets of white paper fluttered out and to the ground. Files. Old paper records.

"I'm going to find out who this cocksucker is, and when I do he is going to wish he had never been born."

In a glorious flourish Duo was on the floor frantically flipping through the old receipts, mumbling angrily to himself, describing in great detail the many ways he was going to gut the shit out of the man when he found him.  
>.<p>

Pulling his gun fluidly as he moved to cover Maxwell's back came to him like breathing, like walking. It was so perfectly natural at this point in his life that Heero almost laughed. So much for a career as an elementary school teacher.

The voicemail messages were exceptionally creepy. Heero was as tired of these stupid mind games as his partner, and he considered attempting to trace the calls but he was almost certain it would be a futile effort and a waste of their time. Instead, he nodded consolingly to Maxwell's death threats against their perp and leaned back against the wall, gun still held in a defensive position, eyes glaring into the dimly-lit space surrounding them.

That bastard knew everything about them. He knew their backgrounds, their family histories, and their motivations for piloting the Gundams. He knew their fears. Heero wasn't accustomed to dealing with an enemy that he couldn't see, couldn't just beat into submission. He was a combat pilot. He excelled in military-based battles, large-scale destruction, and uncomplicated skirmishes. This covert sneaking around and aiming in the dark was starting to grate on his last very fragile nerve.

He had the feeling that this killer was leading them around by their noses, drawing them deeper into some preplanned, elaborately staged inside joke that was going to cost one or both of them their lives. Heero was willing to risk his. His gaze slid from the dark hallway beyond the doorway to the back room, settling on his partner, who was elbows-deep in yellowing receipts and paperwork. In a startling moment of clarity that Heero was certain he would never experience again, he resigned himself to the idea that he was not willing to risk Maxwell's life over this case. This maniac obviously had a thing for the braided pilot. So did Heero, but he doubted his muddled feelings and strange thoughts were nearly as sinister as their suspect's.

Friends worried about each others' safety, right? They watched each others' backs. They took bullets for each other. They killed to protect each other. No, Heero was positive that he was back in 'partners' territory. He wondered if other partners' chests hurt like his did when Maxwell was upset, or depressed, or worried. He decided they probably did. That seemed reasonable.

"We shouldn't stay here long," Heero said aloud, more to distract himself from his odd train of thought than anything. "He obviously knows you own this yard, and Agent Jackson was pretty adamant about our coming here." He wondered what Colonel Une had done with Jackson in their absence. She had undoubtedly been interrogated again. Heero was absolutely certain that Chang would have been called out to Mars by now to attempt to track them down. Winner and Barton would have been alerted to their absence, as well. Une wasn't stupid enough to send regular Preventers agents after them-it took a Gundam pilot to find one when he didn't want to be found. He guessed that he and Maxwell had a 27% chance of getting out of L2 without being intercepted. He wasn't sure that he wanted an altercation with any of the other pilots, and he wasn't going back to Brussels to play ESUN's lapdog until this serial killer was behind bars or dead.  
>.<p>

Duo was soon lost in a pile of papers. Nothing turned up any results. He found the receipt that had been scanned in the Motor Vehicle Databank, but nothing about the physical copy yielded any new clues. There was nothing to go on. He wished he could remember a face. He closed his eyes and clutched the paper, trying to picture what the man who signed this looked like.

But there had been many men here. And women. He wasn't even sure at this point in the suspect was even human. How could he know about Solo? How could he have so easily manipulated them here?

Duo jumped up from his paperwork and lunged for the phone. Frantically he began to clumsily dial a number. If Joe wasn't there, and Hilde wasn't there... then what if...

The American pilot's face grew pale. He waited three rings. Four...

"Oh... God..." he whispered to himself in silent prayer. With each ring came a new detail to the gruesome image of Hilde lying slain in her apartment with Duo's name carved into her chest...

RING

Poor Joe. He was only sixteen...

RING

He thought he was going to be sick.

"Click. ... Hello?"

Duo jumped at the sound of Hilde's voice. "Hilde... hey... are you okay? Where are you? Where is Joe?"

"Huh...? Duo? You are calling me from the scrap yard? I didn't know you were coming..."

He released the breath he had been holding in a loud, relieved sigh. "Thank God you're okay. Look, don't come back here. I am not staying. You need to go somewhere, stay with some friends... where is Joe?"

"Joe? He is on a school trip to-"

"Good. Don't either of you come back here or go anywhere unattended without calling me first, got it?"

"Duo, I don't understand..."

"GOT IT?" Duo practically screamed into the phone. He heard Hilde gasp on the other side.

"Sure, okay. Whatever you say. But what is going on?"

"I'll call you later and tell you about it. Take care, Hilde." He abruptly hung up the phone. Despite the feeling of relief at hearing her voice he felt trapped, like a dog on a chain, being taunted by the cat just out of reach.

"Okay, let's go." He said sharply, but before he turned to leave through the door he walked over to a couch in the waiting area just opposite of the counter. He shoved it out of the way and knelt to the ground. Carefully he pulled back a floorboard and rummaged around underneath. He retrieved a large steel ammo can, popped it open and began extracting various weapons from inside. Guns. Knives. Explosives.

Heero had been a good influence on him.

After he had emptied the can of weapons and ammo he replaced it and shoved the couch back over the covered hole with his foot. "Time to go," he said softly as he walked out into the open street.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX  
>Day 6.5: L2 Colony Cluster<p>

The walk back to Maxwell's safehouse did not take nearly as long as Heero expected. It almost seemed that he had so focused in on scouring their surroundings for anything remotely threatening that time had moved faster. He remembered that strange sense of fractal time from the wars. Some battles went by so quickly that he had barely managed to break a sweat before he stood alone on the battlefield, his enemies dead or disabled. Other skirmishes seemed to last an eternity, dragging on in an endless dance of cat and mouse until his opponents finally made that one fatal error that allowed him to bring them down.

This was one of those times in which the action was over in the blink of an eye and he had to stop and wonder how he'd gotten in front of the ramshackle old building, how he wasn't panting from the exertion of running ten blocks, how Maxwell was standing there beside him without perspiring at all. Dr. Wolfstadt said that strange sense of time loss was a result of chronic and repeated large-scale head trauma. Heero thought it was just nerves, though he'd never admit that aloud.

They both hesitated just below the rusted cast iron fire escape ladder, Heero training his gun up the stairs, Maxwell down the alley. It felt like an infiltration mission. It pissed Heero off. Safehouses were supposed to be fucking safe. Right now it felt like there was no where between L5 and Earth that was all that safe, anymore. Heero moved first, holstering his gun and jumping up the two feet to grab hold of the bottom rung of the stairs. From there it was an easy feat to hoist himself up and hand-over-hand climb the grimy old thing to the broken window two stories above. When he got to the sill he straddled the brick there and waited for Maxwell to follow when he felt the Deathscythe pilot damned near in his ear he pushed through the sill, drew his gun again, and pitched himself forward, rolling as soon as he felt his shoulder strike the dusty floorboards. He was crouched on one knee in moments, scanning left then right, but he saw no sign of life in the dismally dark building.

Making a quick hand motion for his partner to follow him, Heero got to his feet and let his sidearm lead him through the hallways to the room they'd holed up in the previous night. He wanted to grab their duffels, erase any trace of themselves from that room, and get the fuck out of here as fast as humanly possible. Never before had Heero's senses raged at him to put this much distance between himself and a location. Stalking through these hallways felt more dangerous than walking unarmed into an OZ base and asking them for directions back to the colonies.

The door to the room was twenty feet in front of them. He recognized it because it sat distinctly crooked on its hinges. Pausing outside, he gestured that he would enter and sweep left; Maxwell was to follow and sweep right. Heero hoped fervently that there were no orphaned children making use of that space at the moment. He was a loose cannon waiting to cause a catastrophe and his vision was based on movement. If something jumped, he was going to double-tap center mass and ask questions later. With one last long look at his partner, Heero moved to stand directly in front of the door. It swung inward, so striking the lock plate with his boot and breaking the damned thing down was easy. Forcing his way through the whirlwind of dust the cracking wood made was harder. His vision was obscured for less than two heartbeats, but that's all it took.

There was a hand wrapped around his wrist and yanking him sharply forward, using his own momentum against him. Heero held onto his gun, hit the floor, and tumbled reflexively, coming to a defensive crouch just inside the door. He had to fight back the urge to tell Maxwell to run. If he was lucky this attacker hadn't seen the other agent yet and Maxwell wouldn't leave him, anyway. Of that he was certain. He waited for a second attack, for someone to lunge at him in the darkness, but there was nothing but floating dust and the eerie sensation that he was being watched from the shadows. Hands signals would give away Maxwell's presence, but he shot a pleading glare at the doorway to stay still, to keep quiet.

Heero stood from his crouch in the center of the room, eyes darting about. He needed a target. He needed a body with which to make contact. One fucking bullet and this entire ordeal would be over...

"I'm a Preventers agent," he barked, hoping to startle his opponent. His own voice rumbled off the empty walls and echoed back to him mockingly. "Come out where I can see you." His sidearm followed the motions of his eyes, sweeping back and forth slowly. He had just made up his mind to back towards the doorway, out of the room, when a noise to his right got his immediate attention. Heero turned sharply and fired without thinking into the corner, trigger finger tightening reflexively once, twice, three times, and in the span of time it took for the slide on his gun to spring back and a fourth bullet to leave the clip, enter the chamber, Heero felt the business end of another sidearm pressed to his temple.

"Drop the gun." Heero ejected the clip and racked the slide open before tossing the now useless weapon to the dirty floorboards at his feet. "You're a fast little fucker, aren't you?" The voice sneered, moving closer until it was right in Heero's ear. He remained motionless. The unknown man wrapped one arm tightly around Heero's neck, dug the barrel in a little more deeply, and chuckled. "I know you're out there, Duo," he all but sang at the open doorway. "Heard you were looking for me."

.

Duo had faced so many instances where death was imminent. They had been in that situation before, the both of them. Faced with an enemy that was far greater in number. Surrounded, without ammunition and without any hope of escape. But every time Duo had been in those places with Heero he never had lost hope that everything would be okay.

Everything was always okay. Bullet wounds, head injuries, broken bones... but somehow they all healed. Somehow they escaped. Somehow they got away.

Duo had never seen a gun that wasn't Heero's own held up to the Japanese man's head.

And for the first time in his life he fell to a new level of panic he had never in his life had ever experienced. Even when Maxwell Church burned he didn't feel this level of dread and anxiety. Even when his Gundam was blown to pieces he didn't feel this lost.

Through the dark shadows he saw Heero struggle, and then was held by a shadowy figure in the doorway. Duo had pressed himself against the wall as soon as Heero had lost his footing, shielding himself in the darkness that filled the narrow hallway. His breathing began to crescendo and soon his heart was beating out of control.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

Duo had heard Heero's clip drop, and heard the live bullet snap out of the slide and roll across the floor, bumping the toe of his shoe.

The voice talking to Heero was unusual. Duo had never heard a voice like that before. He couldn't read its emotions. Was it angry, vindictive, ... vicious? He tightened his hands around the grip of his gun and tried to calm down. He had to think of something. After all, the guy may not have known he was there.

_"I know you're out there, Duo. Heard you were looking for me."  
><em>  
>It was at that moment Duo knew.<p>

His arms began to tremble and his body went cold. "Dyuoh..." he whispered to himself, his memories flooding back to him like a tsunami across what had once been the arid wasteland of memory that was his childhood. There were only two people who pronounced his name like that, Heero and ... It couldn't be him, could it?

He had to be sure, and the only way to be sure was to see him. He reached behind his back and grabbed his 9mm, fully tricked out with laser and flashlight built in the grip. He had to know... he had to know...

With sure footing, despite his clearly shaken state, he slipped out of the shadows. In one stunning move he had the sights of his gun set on the face just hidden behind Heero's. He squeezed the grip. The LED light on the front snapped on, illuminating the scene in the dark doorway.

As Duo slid out of the darkness the grip around Heero's neck grew tighter and the figure behind him ground the blunt edge of the barrel even harder against the Japanese pilot's temple.

"Finally. Long time no see, Duo..."

Duo released a slow, shaking breath but stiffened his arms. He was at a loss. This was not what he was expecting. "S... solo..." Duo stammered. In the darkness his eyes widened and shot from Heero to the half-revealed face of his childhood friend. "You're alive... Why... why are you doing this?"

Solo laughed bitterly and shrugged his shoulders, flexing his finger against the trigger. He pulled it slowly until it resisted then stopped. The hammer twitched but didn't release. "Come on you fucking idiot. You know why!" Solo snarled, his voice rising to a loud yell. "You left me! You fucking left me to the plague! How... " he squeezed Heero's neck roughly, partially cutting off his airway. "How could they replace me with this skinny little piece of shit? And you..." Solo laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You chose him over me, too."

Duo stared bewildered through the three prongs of his sights at the man behind Heero. Solo. His childhood friend, the only person he had ever truly loved. He was like a brother to him. When Solo died it had changed everything for Duo. Now here he was. Alive. And he was the murderer. The killer. He killed Zechs, and now he was holding Heero hostage and blathering angrily at him. He could feel Solo's rage. He inhaled deeply, trying to steady his voice.

"Look. Let him go, he isn't the one you wanted right? It was me the whole time. Moloch. We read that with Father Maxwell. I get it. The numbers..." Duo frowned and looked frantically to Heero, wondering how much the Japanese man could actually breathe in that hold. "He isn't who you want. You wanted me, so fucking let him GO!" Duo was losing his patience. He was scared. He tried not to look it, but it was there for all to see. Here was the ghost of his past holding his partner by the throat, threatening to shoot him.

Solo's laugh echoed through the empty hall. "In time, Maxwell. You know, two's company. Three's crowd. Let's get rid of him, first, and make things a little more intimate..."

Duo saw the finger moving. He had been trained for this. He was an excellent shot. He could take out Solo. He just hoped that Solo's gun wouldn't land a bullet in Heero's brain before he could stop it.

He went to pull the trigger, but hesitated. A shot rang out. Duo flinched, and pulled the trigger. And missed.

.

Heero had never actually suffocated before. It hurt. The arm digging into his throat was like a steel bar that he couldn't bend, and the gun digging into the side of his head was very real. So was the panic rising in Maxwell's voice. Heero was convinced that he was well and truly fucked.

A fat drop of sweat rolled from his hairline, down his cheek, and glided down his jaw. His partner was practically pleading with this 'Solo' guy. He assumed it was the same kid that Maxwell had told him about the night before, the one who was supposed to have died of the L2 plague.

Heero wondered in a strangely detached sort of way if his life would flash before his eyes when he felt Solo squeezing the trigger to the gun pressed to his head. The tension against his head increased, the pressure around his throat doubled, but Heero wasn't bombarded by images of his past, faces, places, memories. He heard the hammer of the gun twitch and all he saw was the liquid blue of Maxwell's eyes.

Solo. Plague. V08744. 12/23 AC187. This all made sense.

'Replaced?' This did not make sense.

This murderer was insinuating several things, none of which made sense. Heero was more preoccupied at this point with struggling to draw ragged gasps of breath while remaining motionless that he could ponder none of them. His vision was greying out. His chest was burning. The body pressed against his back was firm and unyielding. Maxwell's hands were shaking. Solo was speaking again in that same low, cruel voice, so much like Heero's own but so twisted instead.

The arm against his throat became a noose, suddenly. The trigger to the sidearm against his head was moving again, faster this time, serious this time, and Heero could do nothing. He stared at Maxwell's terror-filled eyes past the beam of white light trained on Solo, past the swirling dust motes in the ten, twelve feet between them. Maxwell would take the shot. That's what Heero would have done. That's what partners did.

The gunshots that rang out startled all three of them. It took Heero a second to register that his brain was very much still safely encased in his skull and not decorating the rotten floorboards of the safehouse. The very next thing he registered was the lack of pressure against his windpipe, the gun missing from his temple. Solo had released him and run, smashing through the only third-story window in the room and rolling onto the fire escape before leaping into the alley below and taking off at a dead run. Heero turned to follow him and his right knee collapsed under his weight.

The Wing pilot hit the ground hard and it was only then that he felt the sharp throb in his thigh. He looked down to find a bloody hole in the leg of his jeans. His head snapped up to locate his partner, but instead of the panicky blue eyes he expected to meet he found green.

Trowa Barton stood silhouetted in the doorway, holstering his own sidearm and giving Maxwell a particularly unreadable look. Then the Heavyarms pilot was moving, crossing to the window to ensure that Solo was indeed gone, kneeling down beside Heero to inspect the bullet wound he'd shot into the Japanese agent's thigh. He didn't say a word as he slid his fingers into the bullet hole in Heero's jeans, ripped them to expose the injury, pulled strips of Heero's tee shirt apart to form a compression bandage over the heavily-bleeding area.

Wing's pilot looked up from the acrobat's red-stained hands to his partner. His vision was swimming again. Blood loss, he suspected. Barton had shot him, wounded him, to keep Solo from retaining him as a hostage. It was textbook Preventers procedure. He'd had no clear shot of the assailant. Maxwell, on the other hand, had had an unobstructed view of the attacker. He had hesitated. Then he'd fired and missed.

Duo Maxwell had hesitated and fucking missed.

The hands tourniqueting the hole in his thigh were steady, calm, sure. At that moment Heero was none of those things. Between the adrenaline, the oxygen deprivation, and the blood loss, he was well aware of the fact that he was losing consciousness, and fast. Heero glared up at his partner with disoriented disgust blazing in his eyes and growled, "We're friends, huh?" before passing out.

.

Everything had happened so fast. Solo had taken off after the gunshots. Duo had started to move forward with the intention of chasing him when a tall lean figure came quickly from the darkness beside him and entered the room instead.

"T-trowa?" Duo had not been expecting to see the Heavyarms pilot here on L2. Sure, someone was bound to be out there looking for them, but how did he find them? How did he know to look here?

Duo stood frozen as Trowa quickly checked to see if Solo was indeed gone. Then he stared blankly at the two as Trowa began to tend to the wound he had inflicted on Heero's leg.

Trowa had shot Heero. Procedure. Right.

Then a sinking feeling began to burn in the bit of Duo's stomach. Acid began to creep up the back of his throat, choking off all words of apology he had intended to give Yuy.

"We're friends, huh?"

Duo's eyes widened as Heero growled at him disgust before passing out. He darted forward and helped Trowa set Heero on one of the ratty cots.

He felt sick. He took a few steps backward and out into the hallway, fell into the nearest corner onto his knees and began to heave. He was shaking. He vomited the little food he had eaten today and then stared down at the hot puddle between his hands. His eyes began to burn with tears but he refused to let them fall and he would be damned if he would let himself produce an audible sob.

He had missed. He should have taken the shot. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why didn't he just do it? This could have all been over with. They would have caught their murdered. They could have gone back to the Preventers, accomplished in their mission.

He had risked Heero's life by hesitating. Solo may have been the one with the gun to the Japanese man's head but Duo was the one who almost killed him. If it hadn't been for Trowa Heero would be dead and Duo knew it. The guilt and shame of it all was too much. He wretched again, his shoulders shaking violently as his arms tried weakly to hold his own weight up.

He couldn't believe it. Solo was alive, but how? He had died. He had died in Duo's arms, hadn't he? The plague had taken him, just as it had taken the other kids. How could he be alive?

Duo was starting to feel angry. Solo had intentionally tricked him and toyed with him. The boy he had once knew- the caring brother figure he had once loved- that wasn't the same Solo. Why.. why did he want Duo to suffer?

Duo tensed and squeezed his fisted hands against the filthy floorboards. He knew why.

He forced his aching lungs to inhale a few heavy breaths before he pulled himself to his feet, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and used his sleeve to clear the tears he had denied release. Then he entered the room again and weakly looked up at Trowa.

"Thanks Trowa," he said lamely. He was embarrassed, ashamed, humiliated, and in shock. He looked from Trowa to the pale, still figure of Heero on the cot. He felt his cheeks begin to burn red hot. "Guess you're here to take us back to Une, right?"

.

Trowa snorted and turned back to watch Yuy's chest rise and fall. "Why would I take you two to Une?" he asked thoughtfully. "She didn't send me."

It hadn't taken much to find these two. Une had called Chang. Chang had called Winner. Winner had called Barton. Barton had staked out Maxwell Scrap. From there it had been easy to follow them back to this safehouse. The 'Solo' guy hadn't been expected, but shooting Yuy in the leg seemed to have done the trick. Trowa wasn't so positive that he hadn't hit anything vital, though.

Duo was acting really strangely, though. Almost hovering over his partner. The throwing up bit didn't check out either. Then again, Trowa had never watched his partner get shot. He didn't have a partner. As a freelance consultant for Preventers he showed up when he felt like it, which wasn't often. The idea of Duo and Yuy disappearing from Mars and leaving an irate Chang in their wake was simply too comical not to respond to, but he had come here at Quatre's request, not Une's. He wasn't about to explain all of that to Duo, though. Poor guy had just lost his cookies in the hallway.

"We should get him to a hospital," Trowa said calmly. "I may have nicked an artery." Yeah, that sounded a lot better than 'He's going to bleed to death soon.' Keep calm. That was the key. Someone had to be. Trowa snaked an arm under Yuy's unresponsive form and carefully levered him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He had no idea where the emergency rooms on L2 were. Hopefully Duo would know. He turned and looked at him expectantly.

.

"Oh... yeah... yeah, you're right." Duo suddenly snapped out of his muddled, emotional state. He had fucked up, but he knew he had to make up for it by helping as much as he could now. Heero hadn't died thanks to Trowa's magical appearance. Once he heard it wasn't Une he knew it had to be because of Quatre. Despite the Sandrock pilot's constant absence these past few years he still managed to be involved in just about everything from afar. It was obvious he was keeping track of them out of concern. Sometimes it got annoying but in this instance it was a godsend.

Duo hurriedly led Trowa down the stairs and outside. He kept his gun in hand, just in case Solo appeared around the corner and demanded a second act. He jogged up the street and spotted a transport truck parked in front of a convenience store. He ran up to the guy unloading cases of Pepsi from the back.

"Hey! Look, I need your truck."

The man's face contorted into a look of surprise before transforming into an indignant scowl. "Hell no you're not, kid."

Duo snarled. There wasn't time for this. He clutched his gun tightly and swung his free hand, planting a hard punch in the center of the man's nose. The delivery man screamed and grabbed his face, stumbling to a sit on the ground. Duo wasted no time hopping in the truck, cranked it and floored it in the direction of Trowa. He stopped and kicked the door open from the inside and waited for the Heavyarms pilot to load himself and Yuy in the truck before flooring it down the road in the direction of the only hospital the colony had, located about two miles uptown. He drove like a madman, cursing occasionally at the slower traffic that occasionally pulled out in front of him. As he swerved around traffic to pass cases of soda pop fell from the back and landed on the street. Bottles burst upon impact, showering the busy afternoon streets and angry patrons.

Duo left a trail of destruction and chaos all the way to the hospital. He skidded up to a stop in front of the emergency room, a place he had spent a lot of time in as a kid. He helped Trowa carry Heero in. The doctors rushed forward, loaded Heero on a gurney and wheeled him away without asking any questions. They were used to bullet wounds and anonymous patients here.

Once the halls were quiet Duo hobbled over to the waiting area and fall into a chair. Nearby a little boy was coughing into his mom's chest and an older man was favoring a possible sprained ankle.

He buried his face in his hands as he doubled over in his seat. He was angry. So angry he just wanted to hit something. Guilt. Fear. Frustration...

"I fucked up. I really fucked up this time..." he mumbled through his hands.

.

Trowa had certainly been exposed to Duo's peculiar flair during the war. The guy really wasn't one to fuck around with when angered or desperate. As amusing as it was to watch pedestrians dodge exploding Pepsi cans in the street behind them, Trowa stopped smirking when Heero stopped breathing in the seat beside him.

This was so not cool. Wing's pilot waited two, three seconds before drawing another weak breath. Trowa considered telling Duo to drive faster because his partner was fading. Probably not the best idea he'd had all day. He had no real desire to end up wrapped around a telephone pole or in a ditch.

Instead, he risked reaching up and checking Heero's pulse at the man's throat. Yuy was too far gone to break Trowa's hand. His pulse was weak, erratic, but there. How much blood could one guy lose in ten minutes? Then again, Heero Yuy was the best at everything. Except dodging, apparently.

When a stolen Pepsi truck driven by a crazed-looking woman stopped abruptly, tires smoking, outside the ambulance entrance to the local ER, the nurses didn't so much as bat an eyelash. Good old, L2 crime rates. They also didn't ask for identification, names, or medical history. They didn't ask why he'd been shot. Trowa thought that if all hospitals operated this way he'd have had to watch Heero set less of his own bones with wrenches during the war.

Heero was spirited away by a flurry of grim-faced medical staff and Trowa considered going with him. His main concern was the kindly nurses attempting to sedate the poor bastard and losing extremities. But Duo looked like a train wreck right now. Trowa also needed to know just what the hell had happened back in that not-so-safe safehouse.

The braided pilot was talking to himself. That wasn't entirely abnormal. Trowa sat down in the chair beside him rather noisily, stretching his long legs out in front of him, folding his hands in his lap, and sighed quietly. The guy who had taken Heero hostage shouldn't have been able to. No one got the drop on Heero. But their physical resemblances had been fucking uncanny. Their voices had been eerily similar. Even the way they moved was like watching a mirrored image. The Solo guy had said something about Heero replacing him. Trowa had often wondered if Dr J and the other scientists had ever had a prototype of their secret weapon, their 'Perfect Soldier.' On his more creative days he had imagined a laboratory filled with clones of the surly Japanese pilot. Now he wasn't so certain that these musings didn't hold some horrifying grain of truth.

Trowa frowned and slung an arm carefully over Duo's shoulders. "Who is Solo?" he asked.

.

"Solo is this kid I knew when I was growing up here on L2," Duo said quietly into his hands. He peered over the tops of his fingers to stare blankly at the worn gray carpet of the waiting area. "He was my best friend. He died when I was a kid." He couldn't say how old either of them were. He didn't honestly know how old he was. He just assumed. He assumed he was nineteen now, and he assumed he was around twelve when Solo died, but who was to know for sure?

"He died of the plague. A lot of kids did. I was there when he died at the church. Sister Helen told me he was gone, but when I touched his hand he woke up and told me not to worry. I hugged him, and then I heard his last breath. I heard it. How could he be alive?"

He dropped his hands to dangle between his knees and clenched them into white-knuckled fists. "He is mad at me because I moved on..." he paused, and tightened his jaw before murmuring. "I became a pilot and he didn't."

He had never told anyone this. He had hardly remembered it, but Solo was the reason Duo accepted the offer to be a pilot. Everything he knew he learned from Solo. Solo had taught him about guns and combat. It had just been games then. Wrestling in the grass. Shooting tin cans and traffic cones in abandoned construction yards. They would sneak into places and steal things to pawn. Most of the lock picking he had learned from Solo as well.

"He trained me," Duo confided. "I never realized it until a few years ago, but he was the one who made me the way I am."

He didn't understand what Solo had meant about being replaced. Did he mean Duo? Or did he mean Heero... as far as being friends with Duo? He couldn't be sure.

"He has this thing against me, and I am not sure what his real motivation is. He hasn't said. I know he wants me to suffer, but why... I didn't know he was alive. How can he be angry that I moved on and became a pilot when I thought he had died. I was at his fucking funeral!" His voice raised shrilly, startling the old man sitting a few seats down. "He was dead! I didn't know..."

Tears threatened to fall from his eyes again. He buried his face in his hands to hide them. "This is so fucking ridiculous. This is absurd. I can't believe it... he is alive, and I fucked up and didn't kill his ass. He is nothing to me now. Nothing. He was gonna kill Heero. He executed Zechs. That piece of fucking shit, when I get my hands on him I am gonna..." his body tensed and shook with a sob. Somehow it managed to escape. Angrily he stood up and began to pace back and forth across the length of the waiting area, head tilted up to stare at the ceiling as he stalked. He blinked away the burning in his eyes and hissed.

"I swear to God, if Heero dies I am gonna lose it. I'm gonna fucking lose it. You're gonna have to kill me, Trowa!"

The woman holding her child had quickly gotten up and ushered her kid away from the angry, psycho boy-thing yelling obscenities in the waiting room. The old man didn't seem to mind. He was staring at the two young men with interest.

"I should have shot him... I should have fucking shot him. Heero is gonna kill me. If he lives through this, he is gonna fucking kill me. I'll let him. I deserve it. I fucking deserve it."

.

Trowa nodded speculatively. If Heero died, he would lose it, too. He'd have killed the one person the Alliance, OZ, and White Fang had determined was absolutely impossible to kill. Moreover, he'd have shot and killed a friend. He was pretty sure Une wouldn't be terribly pleased with him either.

Truth be told, Trowa was certain it would take more than a bullet to the thigh to take down the 'Perfect Soldier.' In fact, he was more concerned for just how badly Heero was going to maim his partner once he'd bullied the nurses into releasing him. Duo had indeed fucked up. Missing a shot at those close a range couldn't be explained with an 'oops' and logged away in a report. The braided agent hadn't intended on shooting the suspect. That was a problem.

"You let your personal feelings cloud your judgment," he said quietly. "Regardless of what you feel for Solo or Heero, you have to keep your head on the mission, Duo." That was really all Trowa could say about this whole fucked up situation. Zechs and a half dozen other retired soldiers had been ruthlessly murdered, this Solo guy was convinced that he'd had some horrible wrong afflicted on him, and Duo wasn't capable of handling this case because he was way too deep into it.

Trowa wondered how Solo had managed to get the upper hand on Heero in the first place. He knew from experience that Wing's pilot was a deadly force when he needed to be. He'd watched the Japanese agent walk away from damned near impossible odds unscathed. Today, Heero had been inside that building for less than twenty minutes with the best possible backup he could have hoped for and still managed to end up in the emergency room. Something strange was going on. And that line about being "replaced" by Heero was sticking in Trowa's craw.

"I think we should contact Wufei," he reasoned aloud slowly. He knew Duo wouldn't be too keen on the idea-Trowa was convinced that no one really like Wufei. "Your buddy Solo almost killed Heero Yuy." Saying that out loud just made this entire bizarre day seem that much more soberingly real. "I don't think he's just another average serial killer. There were rumors just before Op M was scheduled to go down that the scientists running the show had done some extremely unethical and highly dangerous genetic experimentation. They were trying to create the perfect pilot. From what I could piece together, Mr. Personality in there," he jerked his head towards the trauma room into which Heero had been taken, "Was the end result of that little science project. That means, in hindsight, that there had to have been prototypes, earlier 'models.'" It felt odd to be discussing one of their fellow pilots as if he were a car or similar piece of machinery. "Heero may have company in the 'Super Soldier' department."

And that was the single most daunting thought that Trowa had had in a very long time.

.

Everything Trowa had said made sense. Duo had lost his cool and had practically thrown all of his training out the window. He should have acted, but he couldn't. He was too stunned.

"I guess I'm just not the perfect soldier, like some people." He flopped to a sprawling sit beside Trowa again and was in the middle of a quiet brood when Trowa mentioned Chang.

"Wufei." Duo spoke the name without ill intentions. He didn't have a negative opinion of Wufei as far as being a pilot went. He was just as good as the rest of them, it was just that he never really knew him during the wars. He was gone, always alone. And when he did find himself around Chang he never could get close to him. Funny, he could become friends with Heero but not Wufei.

Well, he_ was_ friends with Heero until just an hour ago.

At Trowa's speculations about other Heeros wandering the world... well, it would have been a joke before. Now, however, it was all seeming so plausible.

So Heero and Solo could have been from a project. A genetic project? Duo had always liked Heero, ever since the moment they had met. He always felt comfortable around him, at ease despite his aggressive nature. Solo had been very much like that in hindsight. The crazy reflexes. The lashing out in frustration.

It all made Duo's head hurt. He rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands.

"Hey, man. Do whatever you think is right." Since I can't seem to do anything right these days...

Duo was starting to wish he had his laptop around. Writing on that stupid blog the therapist gave them was sounding like a good idea about now.

He sat in silence for another half an hour and stared at the floor. By the time a flushed looking nurse had come running into the room Duo had imagined that he had counted every fiber in the rug. Twenty-thousand five hundred and fifty seven...

"E..excuse me. Could you please come with me? Your friend, he is ... well, we can't seem to calm him." The woman was visibly shaken and her voice was sugared with a slight amount of anxious pleading.

Duo hopped up from the chair and silently followed her through the halls. It wasn't hard to find where they had cooped the Wing pilot. There was a crash from the end of the hall and a scream from another nurse who was ducking out of the room just as an IV bag went flying across the hall, barely missing her head. It struck the wall opposite of the room and splattered.

At the sight of the women ducking for cover Duo broke into a run. He slid across the waxed white floor, bounced on the doorframe and ducked into the room.

"Hey, Heero. Man, calm down-" he said reflexively, unsure of what he was going to see inside.

.

The acrid antiseptic smell was the first thing Heero registered. Then came the digital beeping of equipment. That sent up a flag in his mind labelled 'hospital.' He flexed his fingers and toes experimentally. Everything was working. So what the hell was he doing in a hospital?

Heero cracked open groggy blue eyes cautiously, scanning the immediate area. IVs, cardiac monitors, a terrified-looking nurse... Where was Maxwell? Heero sat up abruptly, ripping medical tape away from the IVs in his right arm, and swung his legs down off the gurney. "Sir, you shouldn't-" the young woman in the corner of the room held out her hands to placate him into remaining seated, but Heero growled at her, yanked the IV out of his arm and threw the bag at her. He had to get out of here. He had to find his partner.

When his boots hit the ground Heero figured out rather quickly exactly why he was in the emergency room of an L2 hospital. His left knee buckled with the sheer force of the pain in his thigh and he slumped forward, caught off-guard, into the hospital gurney. His memory of the past few hours caught up with him rather violently. Barton had shot him. Solo had tried to shoot him. Maxwell...

Heero gritted his teeth together against the throbbing, blinding pain in his leg. Maxwell had shot at Solo. Hadn't hit him. Had missed him at less than three yards. Had never had any intention of shooting him...

Heero chose that exact moment to slam down his mental blocks on the meddlesome, 'feeling' portion of his brain. Maxwell didn't need him. He could take care of himself.

The nurse had fled from the room at some point during his staggering. It was just as well. Heero could dig the bullet out of his thigh himself. The IV and donor blood had helped, but he wasn't quite out of the woods. His throat burned. His chest felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to it. His nerves were on fire. Today was just not his day. When he heard Maxwell's familiar voice from the doorway of the room he turned very slowly with what was left of the broken metal IV rack in his hands and very seriously considered breaking the other agent's face with the damned thing.

"You want me to calm down?" he chuckled darkly. The confused churning of betrayal and anger in his chest was pounding at the walls of its imposed prison, just begging Heero to unleash it upon his partner. He gritted his teeth and resisted the lure. "I want a pair of pliers and rubbing alcohol," he growled. "I want to get this bullet out of my leg. I want to get out of here before Preventers or your crazy friend Solo catches up to me." He limped angrily towards Maxwell, ignoring the fiery agony shooting through his left thigh, willing his knee to support his weight. He stopped inches away from the other man, his blue eyes bright with pain and barely suppressed rage, his voice low and lethal. "I want to know everything you know about that son-of-a-bitch-why he seems to think you left him, what he meant by me replacing him, and how he knew about Operation Meteor. You and I both know what he was referring to back in that safe house. Once I have that information, I want to finish this case. Alone."

.

Duo was never one to be silent during an attack. He sensed Heero's pain. It was pretty obvious the Wing pilot was in agony. Duo also knew Heero's abhorrence to hospitals, but he really didn't have a choice in this matter. He was feeling defensive. He knew he hadn't done the right thing by not shooting Solo. However, he felt that he was somewhat justified in his hesitation at that moment. He was slowly starting to make excuses in his head, anything to make himself feel better.

"Hey, look... you were bleeding to death out there. What did you want us to do, huh? Leave you out on the street and hope a doctor just happened to trip on ya?" He was angry. He wasn't angry with Heero in specific. He was just angry at the whole thing. The whole stupid frustrating situation.

Duo became enraged at Heero's insinuation that he was going to cut him off of the case. He knew he shouldn't continue on now that he was emotionally invested in the killer, but that was what was spurning him on all the more. He couldn't just quit now. Not after letting that guy hurt Heero.

Duo lost it. With his own brand of lightning speed he grabbed Heero by the front of his flimsy blue hospital gown. He had moved without thinking, a trademark Duo mistake. However, he had done it and now there was no turning back. Duo shut off his inhibitions, knowing that doing this would probably land him a fist to the gut. At this point he didn't care. He was about to lose everything anyway. He had lost the respect of Heero and Trowa as an agent. Surely Une would scold him for his lack of judgment. He had lost his previous fond memories of Solo. All that was left now were chilling depictions of his childhood self playing with the future killer of Zechs Merquise, among other soldiers.

Everything was lost, so why not lose his good judgement?

"Listen, I fucked up okay!" Duo exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion. "I fucking fucked up. I deserve a kick to the balls. Fuck, why don't you just finally fucking shoot me?" He retrieved his gun with a blur of his hand and shoved it against Heero's chest, his other hand still firmly balled around the front of the Wing pilot's gown. "Just kill me. If you're that fucking mad at me, kill me. I deserve that, but don't you fucking cut me off of this case. It is my case, and you are my partner, and we are going to catch that son of a bitch together. If you don't want me there, then you're gonna have to fucking kill me."

He kept his hand pressed against Heero's chest, the hard barrel of the 9mm nestled firmly into his breastbone. Duo's eyes blazed with anger and hurt.

.

The sheer force with which Maxwell grabbed him was enough to shut down Heero's innate reaction, and that was to snap his partner's neck. The other pilot had stepped beyond his comfort zone and was certainly invading his personal space. The addition of Maxwell's issued sidearm to this explosive confrontation only irritated Heero. He was positive to a tenth of a percent that he had already met his daily quota of playing target to gun-wielding men. This made three. One had been enough.

With the braided agent screaming in his face there wasn't much that Heero could do but stand there. The fury in Maxwell's voice was overwhelming, but the edge of panic and desperation creeping into his normally confident baritone was unnerving. This was precisely why both Lowe and Dr. J had trained him to shut down his emotions, to remain in control, and he only seemed to lose that iron grip when confronted with the traumatized indigo eyes glaring at him now. This had to stop. Attachments got soldiers killed, and, contrary to Relena Peacecraft's idealism, there would never be a time in their lives when the five of them would no longer be soldiers. Gundam pilots didn't retire. Take away the mobile suit, put him in a peacekeeping organization with an office and a paygrade, but Heero still was and always would be a dangerous fucking weapon. Whatever it was that had been compromising his judgment because of Duo Maxwell had to stop.

Heero ignored the way his leg was protesting violently under his own weight. He disregarded the way his vision was still hazy, the tight pain in his chest. He met Maxwell's eyes steadily, reached up calmly, covered his partner's hand with his own and pushed the man's sidearm further into his own chest. "Shoot me," he said. He was impressed that he'd managed his characteristic deadpan monotone despite the apprehension he felt. "You couldn't shoot Solo to save my life. If you can pull that trigger on me now then I can't trust anyone on this fucking colony and I'd rather die anyway."

Heero was saved the trouble of waiting for a response. A group of wary-looking nurses and doctors had clustered in the doorway, looking pointedly at Maxwell's gun and the still-bleeding hole in Heero's leg. One of the more senior doctors stepped forward and eyeballed Maxwell fiercely. "Do me a favor and don't put any new holes in him until I fix the one he's already got." Her rather impressive glare swiveled to Heero in turn. "You," she sighed impatiently, "Shouldn't, by all rights, be able to stand, let alone be conscious. Get your cute ass back onto that gurney before I start asking uncomfortable questions." Heero obeyed without objecting. He'd always responded well to authority. The harrassed-looking woman shooed Maxwell into a corner of the room before turning back to Heero. She studied his bullet wound with a practiced frown before snapping off a series of orders to her staff. The room exploded into a flurry of activity around her. As she snapped on a pair of gloves she gave Heero a sardonic look. "I'm not going to give you anesthetics because I doubt they'd work on you, anyway." Then she looked over her shoulder to Maxwell irritably. "You, Trigger. Get over here and be useful. Hold this idiot down while I dig for the bullet." And without further comment or preamble, she dumped rubbing alcohol into the wound and went to work.

.

When Heero had turned Duo's frustrated violent spree around on him the braided agent was shocked. He didn't have anything else to say. Somehow Yuy had managed to end it all. In one sentence he had completely pacified him. Duo would never shoot him, and that was that.

The doctor's commanding voice jolted everyone into action, and when the woman directed Duo to help he did. Just as fast as the rage had come, it was gone. He felt empty, as if Heero had reached deep down inside him and crushed his right to be upset. He couldn't feel anything.

Duo slowly approached the gurney and slid up between two nursing assistants, finding himself standing beside Heero's left shoulder. He had put his gun away and had turned to look blandly down at the far side of the gurney where the doctor was prepping the wound. He obediently draped his arm gently but firmly across Heero's chest. He could see Trowa leaning against the doorway watching them. He looked away and bowed his head, feeling utterly defeated.

Duo had given up. If Heero wanted to know everything, he would tell him. As soon as they were out of there he would tell him anything he wanted to know. Yuy was right, he was just going to be in the way. He knew that the Wing pilot could manage without him. Duo had to keep himself from becoming disillusioned. Heero had never really needed him.

As he stared down at his hand, gently gripping his partner's right shoulder, he thought on the times they had done missions together. Sure, Duo had always contributed in some sort of small, less than spectacular way. However, it was always Heero who saved the day. Heero always figured everything out. If anything, Duo had been a hindrance. He had shot Heero in the leg, just as Trowa had done, in a misunderstanding the first day they had met. Sure, he saved him from the hospital, but Heero had fucked up his other leg in the fall. He had tried to help Heero fix his Gundam, but he didn't need anything but Duo's parts.

Duo felt Heero flinch and tense beneath his arm as the doctor began to dump disinfectants into the bullet hole. He didn't think he needed to hold Heero down, but at this point he was determined to keep from being a bother or a problem. He wouldn't get in the way anymore. If the damn woman wanted him to hold Heero down, so be it. If Heero wanted him off the case and stuffed in a room to rot, then fine. Whatever.

.

There wasn't anything between Earth and the stars that hurt quite as acutely as feeling someone's fingers digging around in muscle to retrieve a bullet, of that Heero was completely convinced. He stared up at the ceiling tiles overhead and gritted his teeth to keep from making a sound. Maxwell's hold on him was little more than a formality; he knew that in order for the pain to stop, the doctor had to finish her grisly work.

Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds after the initial touch she had extracted the slug and was flushing the wound out. That stung, but not nearly as badly as the fishing expedition had. As soon as his leg was wrapped and he got back into his clothes-wherever those had disappeared to-they were going to find the next shuttle off of this gods-forsaken colony and to someplace where he could get twelve hours of sleep without immediate threat of bodily harm. Blue eyes flashed to the doorway, where Barton was watching the proceedings with a nonplussed gaze. "Zero-four," Heero said shakily. "Make contact." Trowa nodded once and turned dutifully away, walking into the lobby to make the call. He's understand the brief instructions.

Tell Winner to expect us. We're going to L4.

As skilled hands started bandaging the hole in his thigh, Heero reached up and grabbed hold of the very end of Maxwell's braid, which had fallen over the man's shoulder and onto the Wing pilot's chest. He couldn't bring himself to meet his partner's eyes as he spoke. "We're a team," he murmured. He grimaced slightly as the doctor tugged on the gauze now wound around his leg. "Package deal. He wants to turn us against one another. That's how he'll win."

Heero wasn't quite sure how to get across to the braided agent. Maxwell was stubborn, hot-headed, and recklessly impulsive at the best of times. Solo was capitalizing on that. It occurred to Heero in that moment that Solo probably knew Maxwell better than anyone in the galaxy. Better than even Heero did. He finally met the other pilot's eyes and sighed tiredly. "Do you trust me?"

.

Duo had felt something touch his hair and he looked down to see the severed tip of his braid being gently toyed with by Heero's fingers. He stared down at Heero as he spoke, and then bit the inside of his lip and looked away, inspecting the pillowcase behind Heero's usually messy mop of hair.

_"Do you trust me?"_

Duo frowned and turned his gaze back down to Heero and nodded resolutely. He didn't have to think about his answer.

"Yeah. I do."

He didn't say anything else. He didn't need to.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN  
>[Day 7] L4 Colony Cluster<p>

Quatre hadn't seen most of the other pilots in over a year. In fact, the only person he had seen was Trowa, but that had been almost seven months ago. Quatre tried his best to be social, but his work at home was never done, and though he was enlisted as a Preventer, he wasn't part of the payroll or most of the operations therein. He assumed they signed him up to keep track of him, but seeing as he didn't have anything to hide, it hardly mattered.

When he had received the call from Trowa explaining briefly that he was coming to L4, and bringing friends, Quatre was more than happy to have them. Finally, something he could do to help. He had been keeping track of the situation through reports from Wufei and the occasional text message from Trowa. Heero and Duo, still agents of Preventer, had been trailing the potential killer of Milliardo Peacecraft to L2. Something happened and in an altercation Heero had gotten shot. That was all he knew. He had been compiling data all morning and made sure the main housekeeper had rooms prepared for all of them. He had his personal physician on call in case Heero needed more medical treatment, and he had started personally adding laptops and terminals to his own office for the other agents to use when they arrived.

It was the least he could do. He wished he could do more.

After he had finished preparing the estate he paced the halls nervously and waited for his transport vehicle to arrive with the team. He was feeling nervous. He didn't know why.

The long, black sedan rolled up in front of the tall, narrow building. Here on L4 all buildings were tall and narrow, providing more variety and space for the rest of the colony. Many of the buildings were new or undergoing renovations to look as nice as the newer structures were. That was what made L4 such a lively place. Tourists were comfortable coming there, knowing that the economy was swelling and the accommodations were comfortable and very much like Earth.

He couldn't wait any longer. He grabbed the door and opened it, greeting his guests with a warm smile and a wave. "Hey, guys..."

Okay, that was lame. He shook his head, took a deep breath and tried again. "How was your trip?"

.

The shuttle between colonies had taken close to six hours, as it was yet another of the civilian transports that Heero so abhorred. Seating was cramped, turbulence prevented sleeping, and his injured leg had stiffed up halfway through their trip. Heero wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the nearest remotely horizontal surface and sleep like the dead for a minimum of ten uninterrupted hours.

After they had made it safely into a Winner-owned and Maguanac-secured estate.

Heero's rattled nerves kept him alert and focused through the car ride from the shuttle. Trowa was a silent sentinel in the front seat, and Heero turned to his partner, beside him in the back, and frowned. "You and Barton can fill Winner in on the details of what happened on Mars and L2. If I'm going to be of any use to this investigation I have to get some sleep." He snorted self-deprecatingly. "Even the perfect soldier needs recovery time." Heero didn't feel quite so completely unbeatable after almost having his brains blown across the floor of a safehouse. His encounter with Solo had if nothing else made his own mortality very evident.

When the sedan carrying the three pilots pulled up to cast-iron gates and the chauffeur opened the door for them, Heero was making a beeline for the front door of the enormous manor house. He grunted in greeting to Winner, who looked far too chipper to deal with at present, and marched into the estate. His jacket was promptly stripped off and left slung over an expensive-looking armchair upon which he was positive no one had ever sat. His boots were kicked off unceremoniously near a marble statue that was probably worth more than his Gundam. Heero stalked the halls until his weary blue eyes locked onto what looked to be a ridiculously plush sectional sofa. He tested its surface curiously with one hand before deeming it acceptable for sleep, then maneuvered onto his back on the comfortable thing.

.45 in-hand and tucked securely under his head, Heero was asleep within seconds.

.

The quiet and rather long ride to the estate had given Duo time to relax. Unlike his partner, who was now snoring faintly on the velvet Victorian chez lounge in the grand foyer. Duo smirked, turned to Quatre and grinned. "Hey! Long time no see! Wow, you may have gotten taller." Duo grabbed Quatre in a rough bear hug, rattling the poor blond's bones in a friendly shake, before hopping off of him to inspect his surroundings. "I like what you've done with the place."

Duo began flooding Quatre with questions as the blond led them to a closed of sitting room nearby. He was confident that nobody would bother Heero while he was asleep. The guy was cuddling a gun.

He flopped down to a sit on a chair next to a tasty array of cookies someone had left unattended. He gestured to them in a silent, 'can I have one?' gesture before just helping himself.

Quatre smiled in greeting to Trowa before leading the way to the sitting area. He hadn't minded Heero's gruff entrance or bombarding of his couch. He was glad Heero felt at ease enough to pass out so quickly.

He took a seat across from Duo and sighed, looking from the American pilot to Trowa, assessing them. They looked tired, but at least they seemed okay. He had seen Heero's stiff walk to the couch, and assumed that the Japanese pilot just needed rest. He was certain Duo or Trowa would mention if Heero needed anything else. Or, Heero would just help himself.

"So, what is going on? Heero seems sort of out of it. What happened?"

Duo munched noisily on a round, cherry jelly filled cookie, dropping crumbs all over the place. He grabbed the tip of his shortened braid and dusted the arm of the chair free of said crumbs before speaking.

"Well... basically, we found the guy who killed Zechs. He was on L2. He pretty much led us there with clues. He ambushed us, and he caught Heero. I... " Duo paused and took a deep breath. "Trowa showed up and performed a hostage maneuver. Hell, if he hadn't of been there Heero and I would have been goners. So, I guess we have you to thank for sending him. Anyway, Heero is wiped out. The doc on L2 took care of him, but he's super grouchy."

He took another cookie and turned it over in his fingers, studying its crumby goodness closely.

"The guy who killed Zechs is a friend of mine. Well, he was..." Duo set the cookie down and grabbed a different one. "When we were kids, anyway. He is crazy good. He was batting Heero around like fly."

Duo paused in his cookie inspection to peer over his shoulder in the direction of the door. Just in case...

"Anyway," he turned to look back at Quatre. "He is nothing to fool around with. He said some crazy ass shit, like that Heero was his replacement and that I betrayed him. I thought the guy was dead. He died when I was a kid in the plague."

He frowned, and to satisfy his sadness he began to munch on the cookie noisily.

.

Trowa rolled his eyes from where he stood behind Duo's chair. Way to condense such a confusing week into such an ambiguous explanation. "There's a bit more to it than that," he said quietly. "This Solo guy is so similar to Heero it's scary, and I only saw him for a few minutes. Their voice inflections, speech patterns, speed, agility, strength, endurance..." Trowa shook his head. "It's like they're the same person, except that Heero still has his humanity. Solo was genuinely enjoying watching Duo get scared."

.

Quatre looked concerned. Duo looked ill. Choosing honesty over discretion, Trowa continued. "When Duo and Heero got back to their safehouse on L2, Solo was waiting for them. He surprised Heero and overpowered him." Heavyarms' pilot didn't need to emphasize just how impossible that feat should have been. They all knew. "Solo then deliberately toyed with Duo: held a gun to Heero's head, threatened to kill him, insinuated that he had somehow been wronged or cheated out of something to do with the Gundams..."

.

Trowa sighed. "Solo was going to pull the trigger. I was watching him. When Duo didn't react I had to. I shot Heero in the leg, Duo fired at Solo right afterwards, and Solo jumped from a third-story window and disappeared. Duo stole a truck, we took Heero to the hospital, and then I called you." Trowa didn't think that he had left anything out. "I think that our focus right now needs to be on gathering information. We need to know more about Solo." He turned to Duo and gave him a thoughtful look. "Did you know anything about his involvement with the Gundams? Or Operation Meteor?"

Trowa had a hunch about this, and he was starting to pray that he was wrong. The world could not handle another 'perfect soldier'; he knew how difficult it had been for Heero to integrate into mainstream society thus far, and Wing's pilot at least still felt concern for the welfare of others. He was, however, painfully dependent on his partner to serve as a buffer against society at large. If Solo really was another super soldier then he had to have been the product of the same experimentation that had produced their Japanese comrade. If they could find the records of the scientist-Dr. J, if Trowa recalled-pertaining to Heero's training, then perhaps they could figure out how Solo factored into it.

.

Duo had nearly choked on his fifth cookie when Trowa mentioned that he was "scared". He shot an annoyed glance at Trowa before waiting quietly while Quatre took in all of this new information. He hadn't wanted to mention his personal lack of finesse in the matter, but he supposed it was important. Quatre was sitting still, staring at Trowa, but Duo knew that the blonde's mind was racing a mile a minute. Quatre was good at that: analyzing, thinking and coming up with plans. It was a good idea on Heero's part to come here, though Duo was beginning to think that Yuy only wanted to rest here to partake in Quatre's fluffy feather beds and eight course meals.

"The thing is-" Duo broke in, gesturing grandly. "I don't remember anything that unusual from when we were kids. I mean, we were all pretty fucked up. Solo and I used to do all sorts of screwed up things, and he was very good at adapting to life out on the streets, but ya know..." his voice trailed off. He wasn't very good at explaining things. Especially things he didn't understand. Quatre seemed to get him. He nodded and looked from Trowa to Duo, then down to a cell device he had pulled out of his pocket.

.

"Don't worry. I have compiled all of the data from the Zero building operations, as well as retrieved any loose files here and there from all the colonies. When the doctors all perished on Peacemillion, they left a terminal they had been using open. Some phishers had extracted their log-ins. For a while right after the Eve Wars a small faction of hackers had made a game of collecting mobile suit data and old research files from them. It was a challenge. A badge of honor was given to anyone who could break their security. As you guys know, technology has come a long way, and with the last few years came more sophisticated techniques for breaking their encryptions. Last year I employed one of these hackers, and ever since then I have been receiving a steady stream of extracted information." Quatre explained plainly as he tapped around on the device in his hand. A small screen on the wall between two book cases came to life. It began to display schematics of the Gundams. Duo recognized most of it, but something about them was off.

"These are some blueprints of the original Gundam models. They are pretty much the same as the ones included in the mainframes of our suits, but these are earlier versions. There are a few minor changes. This is the kind of thing I have found."

.

Duo watched, impressed. The blond may not have been around gun toting in the Preventers, but he was doing his fair share of the work on the sidelines. He watched as Deathscythe popped up on the screen. It was almost the same as the schematics and guides he had used to fix his suit, except that this version of Deathscythe's weaponry were different. It showed his suit having a beam cannon very much like Heero's had.

"That woulda been useful," Duo mumbled openly.

.

Heero awoke to the sounds of clinking china and silverware and smirked. Winner's housekeeping staff had probably learned very early on the value of discreetly announcing their presences, being employed by a former Gundam pilot. When the tea tray was carried past Heero's claimed sleeping spot and down the corridor, he got carefully to his feet and followed. A glance at his wristwatch told him that he'd been dozing for the better part of eight hours. It wasn't the full twelve he'd been hoping for, but it was double what he needed to operate at optimal levels.

The persistent dull throbbing in his leg told him that he was only operating at approximately eighty percent capacity, but that was enough to check in with their host and the other pilots. It was certainly enough to park his ass at the nearest secured computer terminal and do some serious research. He wanted to know Solo inside and out, find every record he could of the man's existence, and, more than anything, Heero wanted to know why this bastard seemed to think that Heero had replaced him as Wing's pilot.

From what little the Japanese agent could recall, Dr. J had found him wandering the streets of L1 as an eight year-old boy. He'd been orphaned after Odin Lowe's death. Growing up learning to disassemble assault rifles in the dark hadn't left much room for basic social and safety skills. Heero could no more feed himself than he could walk to the moon. The eccentric old scientist had found him to be a veritable goldmine. From that day onward, Heero's life had been a never-ending cycle of testing, experimentation, and missions.

Dr. J had almost certainly been the single most unethical monster of a genius that Heero had ever known. He had, however, a profound soft spot for the stoic boy with perpetually messy hair. That more than anything had been his driving force for making Heero stronger, faster, and more agile. The Wing pilot's natural intelligence had allowed him to adapt to and excel at J's testing. When the time had come to launch Dekim Barton's version of Op M and drop a colony into Earth, J had told Heero to decide whether or not he wanted to carry out the lethal plan.

It was a moment in Heero's life that he doubted he'd ever forget. Suited up for full space combat for the first time, sitting in Wing's cockpit and feeling it hum and pulse and glow around him, he'd felt completely in control. J's message had been clear-descend to Earth. Fight the Alliance. Complete your mission objectives or die trying. But dropping a colony into Earth, regardless of the Barton Foundation's reasoning, was inherently wrong. Heero knew that instinctively. It was the first time he'd felt an emotional response to a mission. Op M in its original form was wrong, but he could fight the Alliance.

As Heero tailed the servant through the winding hallways of Winner's estate, he knew in his gut that, had Solo been Wing's pilot, Operation Meteor in all of Dekim's glory would have gone off without a hitch. Solo had no empathy for other people. He had no discernible knowledge of right and wrong-or he simply didn't care. He was the perfect soldier in a way that Heero knew that he could never be; Solo had conscience.

ZERO had taught Heero the importance of his emotions. He didn't show them often and he ignored them whenever possible as a survival mechanism, but the ZERO System had shown him what could happen if he chose the paths with the highest odds for success but ignored the risk to his fellow pilots and civilians. Heero always chose the scenario with the highest acceptable probability of mission success that protected as many innocent lives and allies as possible. It was admittedly more risky, but he remembered that little girl and her puppy all too well.

When the tea tray stopped outside of a large office and addressed 'Master Winner,' Heero knew he'd found his comrades. He stepped quietly through the door and found Barton and Winner having a hushed conversation around a computer screen while scrolling through what looked to be a shuttle manifest. Maxwell was at another computer terminal across the room, chin in his palm, tapping out some idle beat on the desk's wooden surface while he read through a blueprint of some sort. Heero crossed to his partner, pulled up a chair beside him, and scanned the screen quietly.

It was a schematic of Wing. Heero recognized his own Gundam instantly with a small, sad smile. Maxwell was frowning at the screen, his customary charismatic smile erased by grim lines. He scrolled through another four or five pages quickly before coming to an abrupt halt when the words 'Zoning and Emotional Range Omitted System' appeared. This was a document that Heero had never seen before. It detailed the intent of the system, the dangers and pitfalls of its use, and then gave some information on its development. Heero knew that Dr. J had designed and pioneered the system, but he had never found out how it had originally been tested and implemented. By the time Op M had rolled around, J had already completed it.

Maxwell was staring rather pointedly at the last paragraph of the document, and Heero read it. 'Beta testing of this system has shown conclusively that the pilot's reaction to its use is often erratic and unpredictable. System is not recommended for use in combat assistance due to high risk of mental instability, which can become permanent. Test Subject 00 experienced complete loss of neuropsychological reasoning and was rejected from the testing phase. In the interest of medical ethics this system will no longer be developed.'

Heero was stunned. The ZERO System had killed it users before; Heero knew that for a fact. But J had told him that the system had been completed. He had lied. That meant that the same version of ZERO that Heero had installed in Wing, that Merqusie had installed in Epyon...

It had one test subject, and that poor bastard had been left with no emotional capacity whatsoever. Heero supposed that explained the name of the system. Wing's pilot suddenly felt nauseous. He could have ended up just like that test subject. Quatre had destroyed a colony because of ZERO. Maxwell had never spoken a word of what ZERO had shown him, but he'd refused to go anywhere near it afterwards. Sometimes it had overwhelmed Heero, but he'd never lost control. Test Subject 00 had lost his ability to feel fear, hope, desperation, and love.

The tightening in Heero's chest as he looked away from the screen was quickly crushed and suppressed, and he sighed quietly before addressing his partner. "I'm zero-one," he murmured. "You're zero-two. Barton, zero-three. Winner, zero-four. Chang, zero-five. Who the hell is zero-zero?"

.

"Hm... doesn't say. It doesn't say if the test subject died eventually, either. Who writes this crap?" Duo tapped the keyboard in annoyance, scrolling across pages of raw test data. "You don't remember seeing any other people during your training?"

Duo felt weird talking about training with Heero. He had never had official training of his own. Solo had taught him lots of things, and then when he was picked up by Dr. G he had only to learn how to pilot, a skill he had taken to with surprising ease. He wasn't indestructible like Heero. Duo felt pain like a real person. He never was tested with strange mind-altering computer programs, or made to do anything too unusual aside from target practice or how to use Vernier Boosters and cloaking devices.

He frowned and leaned back into his seat, staring blankly at the writing on the screen. "I was never really trained like any of this. They just gave me a computer, taught me how to start the damn suit up and gave me some coordinates." He began twirling the tip of his braid absently before mindlessly scrolling through the data. "Solo taught me everything I know. I guess that is why I am so pissed off. He taught me everything I know, and then he goes and gets pissed because I used it... "

He reached over to the tray of cookies Quatre had called in for him beside the computer and carefully dragged it past the keyboard to rest in front of Heero. Duo would share with nobody but him. He helped himself to another one. Ever since he had arrived he must have ingested at least a hundred of them.

"He was mad because he said you replaced him. Did he mean that he wanted to pilot Wing?"

Duo's eyes widened. "Fuck. Did he mean he was supposed to be YOU?"

.

Heero paused. And then chuckled. It started off quietly, but after realizing the accuracy of his partner's words he laughed outright. This was too fucking ridiculous. Pilot 00 had to be Solo. That explained everything-his anger towards Heero, the information he knew, the fact that everything about the man screamed 'super soldier' in garish neon lights.

"He's my prototype," Heero chuckled darkly. "Dr. J must have tested the ZERO System on Solo first. When it broke him, J scrapped it but saved the schematics. OZ had me test the system before they installed it in Epyon. I was ZERO's final test subject." He slumped back in his chair and stared at the computer's screen. So why had he never heard of Solo before? He should have been able to remember him. He couldn't be more than a few years older than Heero, so he would have been in the laboratory at the same time. Why couldn't he remember?

"I always thought it was strange that the genetic modifications and conditioning I got under J never needed adjustments or fine-tuning. He just seemed to know what to do. Everything was flawless because he'd already run Solo through it all." Heero buried his face in his hands and shook his head. This was crazy... "Solo has to be zero-zero. J modified him, made him stronger, faster, and more dangerous. Then the system must have permanently damaged his mind and deleted his conscience. And I..." Heero faltered. Then he chuckled again, a morose, self-deprecating sound. "I was the backup plan."

.

Duo had been staring wide-eyed as Heero refined the idea and put facts to it. Heero laughing was odd, and never a good thing. Duo reflexively placed a hand on Yuy's shoulder.

"Well, at least you made it through that shit without going bonkers like he did. I mean... " He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand and shrugged. "Look. Don't let it get to you. At least now we know what his dysfunction is. He is all crazy from ZERO. Shit, everyone goes a little nuts when they have to be streamed on that horrible thing..." He gave a little tilt of his head in the direction of Quatre, who was looking over his own monitor at them. "So they tested the final on you. You came out of it in one piece... right?"

So Yuy and Solo were from the same experimentation? That explained their similarities. Duo wondered how in the entire universe he had managed to become friends with the two ZERO soldier prototypes. What were the odds of that?

But maybe that was why he had. Maybe he was so attracted to Heero because he was so much like Solo has been. Maybe that was why he felt so comfortable, and never much intimidated by Heero's piercing glares and standoffish behavior.

He dropped his hand from Heero and sighed.

This sucked. He wasn't sure what else to say, and he wasn't sure what he had said would make the Japanese man feel any better. He looked around the room for something, anything that could be a distraction.

They needed a break. He glanced down at Heero's leg, extended stiffly out in front of him. The other pilot looked pale, and despite his recent sleeping stint he had dark shadows beneath his eyes.

"You sure you're feelin' okay, man?" Duo glanced in the direction of Trowa and Quatre, who were quietly debating something behind Quatre's desk. "Hey..." Duo smiled brightly, lowering his voice to a whisper. "While they're busy picking china patterns, let's go let loose. I heard from one of the butlers that Quatre built a sweet ass target range in the basement."

.

Heero stared at his partner as if Maxwell had suggested they move to L1 and opened a florist shop. "What?" he sputtered. No. Hell no. Heero wanted to be as far from strangers with firearms as humanly possible for the next several days. If the Deathscythe pilot wanted to go blow off steam he could go alone. "I think I'll pass."

Winner and Barton had been arguing in hushed voices on the other side of the room for a good while now. They were huddled together around a computer, sneaking furtive glances at their comrades over the backs of their chairs. It was annoying. Heero straightened up in his own seat and turned to glare at them before looking at Maxwell. Maybe the range wasn't such a bad idea. He'd just have to politely order Winner's staff out of the area. "I changed my mind. I need to shoot something."

Winner made an indignant noise and stood from his chair, shaking his head at Heero and sighing. "I don't know how Colonel Une puts up with you sometimes, Heero," he muttered. "We were speaking with Wufei. He's on a transport shuttle bound for L4 now. He wants to speak with you two."

Heero snorted and looked at his partner. They didn't need to speak in order to communicate on some things. He knew with a smirk that he and Maxwell wouldn't be waiting around for Preventers to storm Winner's estate and take them back to Brussels. The braided agent's expression confirmed that fact. Heero could tell from the feral glint in those dark indigo eyes that his friend was already forming a plan. "Of course, Quatre," Heero said as amiably as possible. "Do you think we could get digital copies of this information on ZERO and Dr. J's files?"

Now he just needed Maxwell to come up with one of his brilliant excuses for some privacy and they could pack their duffel bags, restock on ammo, and get the hell out of this mansion before Chang could ring the doorbell. Sometimes Heero absolutely loved Maxwell's devious mind.

.

Wufei? Seriously? Duo would be damned if he would let Chang drag his ass back to Lady Une. They had come so far. They were finally getting somewhere with this, and now they were going to be punished for it.

Duo was about to give a resounding "HELL NO" when Heero glanced over at him. Duo smiled, then tried to stifle it as much as he could. He knew that Quatre would recognize his shit-eating grin, and he didn't want the trusting blond to feel any bit of suspicion.

Duo watched as Quatre eagerly provided them with disks crammed with the data he had collected. Once those were handed over to Heero he got up and bounced over to Heero's side, clapping his hand firmly against the other pilot's shoulder blade.

"Hey, you think we can get a shower or something before Fei shows up?" He wrapped his arm gracefully across Heero's shoulders and beamed at Quatre. "I'm gonna have to give Heero a sponge bath, what with his busted leg and all. That okay?"

Quatre was practically blushing as Duo gave him his most fiendish and suggestive wink.

"Y... yes. Um, by all means. I can show you to your rooms..." Quatre stammered, stunned that Duo had been so suggestive and Heero hadn't retaliated in some way. Were they really...?

Duo shook his head and grabbed a cookie in parting. "Nah, don't worry. I think we'll find it. When is dinner, huh? Six? Five?"

"Seven..." Quatre answered.

"Great. We'll try to be down then, ne, Heero? See ya later, Trowa." Duo gave Trowa a small wave before nudging Heero out of the room and into the hall. He popped the cookie in his mouth and chewed it triumphantly, his arm still firmly wrapped around Heero's shoulder.

"Okay. You pack up, leave the transportation issue to me," he said in a quiet murmur against Heero's ear as he trailed the Japanese pilot down the hall. He peered over his shoulder at the door shrinking away behind them. Quatre had poked his head out to make sure they were going in the direction of the bedrooms. So, for authenticity, Duo dropped his hand from Heero's shoulder to give the former Wing pilot's butt a squeeze.

The door to the office slammed closed.

Duo bit his lip, his shoulders shaking, trying not to laugh aloud.

.

If Winner or Barton could see the furious blush now heating Heero's face they'd know for certain that this was a setup. As it was, the second they'd made it to one of the guest rooms and secured the door behind themselves, Heero sank down onto the nearest bed and looked anywhere in the room but at Maxwell, who was doubled over near the door and attempting not to laugh aloud as he so obviously wanted to.

He certainly couldn't be angry with the other pilot; Maxwell had successfully ensured them enough time alone to gather their meager belongings, change, and get out of the estate before Chang's impending arrival. He was, however, a very concerned about his personal reaction to Maxwell whispering in his ear so closely that his lips had accidentally grazed the sensitive cartilage, or the way his stomach had performed some complicated cartwheel when his partner's hand had grabbed his ass without warning.

Heero needed a vacation. He sighed and stood slowly to divest himself of his jeans. He needed to redress the bandages around his leg before they sneaked out to flee Chang and his Preventers backup's arrival. He shucked the denim down his hips, past his thighs, and hissed when the material of his jeans snagged the gauze wrappings on their way down to pool at his ankles. The dressings over his bullet wound were already wet with blood. He unwound the gauze slowly and hissed loudly as he peeled the cotton pad slowly from the injury. Fresh blood seeped from the wound.

How in the seven hells was he supposed to be of any use in this case with a hole in his thigh? Heero sat down heavily on the edge of the bed once more, reaching down to snag his duffel before upending its contents onto the comforter. He made quick work of cleaning and redressing the wound. Standing again and working his jeans cautiously back over his legs and to his hips was a different matter entirely. He needed full mobility before they even thought about tracking Solo down. Heero wouldn't get caught off guard again, wouldn't end up in yet another situation where Maxwell's unstable emotions might cost his life.

Heero frowned when he realized that his tee shirt was smeared with bloodstains. He yanked it up and over his head, tossing it aside, and frowned at his reflection in a a wardrobe mirror. There was a sickly purple and yellow handprint-shaped bruise around his throat. His ribs were bruised on one side of his body, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Heero looked like he'd gotten into a fight with a bull and lost. He decided to at least wash his hair and brush his teeth before they made their escape. If they were headed back to L2, who knew when his next opportunity for basic hygiene practices would be?

Wing's pilot moved closer to Maxwell and, mimicking the other agent's earlier actions, he spoke directly into his friend's ear. "What's your plan for transportation?" Heero asked softly. He wouldn't put it past Winner or Barton to eavesdrop.

.

Duo had been packing their bags. Currently he was inspecting a full ammunition clip, weighing it critically in his hand. His face was screwed up in a mental calculation of how many bullets they had, and how many he would need to swipe from Quatre's range master before they left, when Heero's voice in his ear chimed in with the question on transportation.

"I plan on taking advantage of Quatre's good hospitality. I think I saw a Beemer out front..." Duo whispered, tilting his head to the side to regard Heero with a wide, conspiratory grin. "And as for a shuttle... Wufei is on his way, remember? Have you ever seen the shuttle the Captains have access to? I can't wait to get my hands on it." He shoved the remaining clips into his duffle bag before zipping it up slowly. He turned to regard Heero a bit more thoroughly, his face plainly expressing his concern. "Hey, you really look bad. You sure you are up for this?"

He still felt rather guilty for having failed in his duty to protect Heero. He couldn't help but feel immediately responsible for the Japanese pilot's maiming. "You need any help?" He reached over to gently touch the bruise on Heero's rib cage. "This looks like a fracture."

As he inspected his partner Duo noticed something he hadn't ever seen before. Rather than Heero keeping a steady, almost accusatory gaze at him- as he had always done in the past- the former Wing pilot was avoiding eye contact entirely. Duo dropped his hand and stared at him for a moment.

Was he making Heero uncomfortable? He hadn't ever really considered this before. Normally whenever he did anything forward or intruded on Heero's personal space the other young man would correct him by pushing him away, or glaring. Or both. Now that Duo thought of it, Heero was being a lot more passive towards him. He had noticed it earlier, but chalked it up to nerves and stress from the case. Now he wasn't so sure.

Duo gave Heero a critical eye. It was silent. It was starting to get awkward. "So, uh... yeah. I showered and stuff when you were asleep, so I guess while you get cleaned up I'll get the ammo and stuff," he said in a quiet, guarded voice as he started to shoulder his bag. "Meet me out front in twenty minutes?"

He gave Heero his most devious smile before sneaking out of the room.

.

Frowning slightly, Heero watched Maxwell's braid whip around the corner and stared after it for a long moment before reaching up to touch the bruise on his ribs thoughtfully. His partner was acting overtly evasive. What the hell had that been about?

Packing his belongings wasn't a laborious or particularly thought-provoking process, and it left Heero with an oddly familiar feeling. It reminded him of the war: the constant moving, the never-ending sense of impending danger, the feeling that the ammo you were carrying was never enough. Heero realized that he'd been doing a lot of introspective thinking as of late; he wasn't entirely comfortable with that.

Life had consisted of endless paperwork and his desk for the past three years. He'd been so mired in memos, briefings, and reports that there hadn't been much time for anything else. But now, on Solo's trail, dodging Chang and Preventers, being in constant danger...

Heero felt alive again for the first time since Wing Zero had been destroyed in the Eve War. He probably could have done without being shot again, but the adrenaline rush was second only to atmospheric re-entry. However, unlike his 'war days,' as Maxwell called them, he felt a peculiar hollow ache in the pit of his stomach. It felt like dread. That wasn't something Heero experienced often. He told himself that it stemmed from being bested in hand-to-hand combat with Solo and summarily shot. He firmly crushed the memory of his best friend's panicked face and shaking hands as he aimed at Solo. No, that wouldn't happen again. Heero wouldn't let it.

With his duffel slung over one shoulder he made his way quietly and quickly out of the sprawling estate through a side door that looked to be meant for servant use. He circled back around to the front of the house, and by the time he'd made it to the curb his wounded leg was stiff again. He was fairly certain that the bandages would require changing once they were safely in a shuttle and on the way back to L2.

Blue eyes scanned the immense front lawn of the estate. Where was his partner?

.

Retrieving a few boxes of 9mm and .45 ammo had been easier than Duo had expected. It turned out that the man with the keys to the range loved to talk guns, and when Duo off-handedly mentioned that he was in need of a few boxes of hollow points. The guy handed it over graciously, filling the remainder of the space Duo had in his bag. Getting out of the building was simple enough, and when Duo found the black BMW he had seen parked out from hours earlier he was lucky enough to slip in undetected. The keys were in the ignition, as Duo assumed they would be. The driver of the car that had brought them had done the same thing. He figured it was safe enough. The cars were enclosed by the high fence. Who would have suspected that Mister Winner's "friends" would be highjacking a car?

He tossed his bag happily in the back seat and slipped into the driver's seat. On the front passenger seat was a black driver's hat. He pulled it down over his head and pushed his sunglasses up over his nose. Perfect. Ah, look. Driving gloves. Cool. They fit!

When Duo saw Heero slinking around the corner he honked the horn to get his attention. Duo, king of being inconspicuous. Luckily nobody was around outside the estate. The closest guard was in a security box at the front gate.

When Heero got in the back seat. Duo reached over to flick on the radio, putting it on the colony's urban gangster rap station. He turned it up loud. The bass thumped, vibrating the seats and mirrors.

Duo had learned something a long time ago. If you were confident enough, and looked like you belonged, you could probably fit right in to any situation, but where was the fun in that?

"Ready?" Duo grinned as he started up the car and punched the accelerator. The car lurched forward. He floored it up to the security gate. A disgruntled security guard exited the box and eyed the car. Duo rolled down the tinted window and grinned.

"Hey buddy," he yelled over the rap music. "Hurry up. Master Quatre has a party to get to."

The man looked skeptical. He peered back at the completely blackened windows of the back seat. Duo huffed.

"C'mon, man! We haven't got all day. Master Quatre has a lot of bitches to see to."

The man frowned and began to back up, his hand reaching for the phone. Duo frowned. This wasn't fun at all. Oh well. It was worth a try.

"Hey." Duo pulled the gun out and pointed it at the man. "Don't move. Just hit that nice button over there that opens the door, okay?"

The man frowned and for a moment it looked like he was about to retaliate, but the creepy smile Duo was giving him must have sapped his confidence. He obediently opened the gate.

"Good chap. See ya!" Duo chirped as he slammed his foot into the gas, tearing out of the estate with a squeal of tires. As the black car slipped out onto the busy street another matching black BMW was pulling up to check in.

.

Heero was almost positive that he was having a mild heart attack. His partner had just stolen a car from the Winner estate, held a guard at gunpoint, and about blown the Wing pilot's eardrums with the ridiculous bass pouring through the car's speakers. Instead of yelling at the braided maniac, Heero watched the irate guard in the rearview mirror and laughed. He clapped his partner on the shoulder in congratulations before slumping down in the comfortable leather seat and shaking his head in amusement. Only Maxwell...

After a few moments of thundering bass beat and what Heero assumed were highly offensive lyrics, he reached forward to turn the volume down a few decibels, watching Maxwell guide the sleek sedan through L4's streets with practiced ease. Heero had never quite attained that level of finesse with vehicles. His experience with them amounted to a few tense car chases and a memorable day with a hijacked ambulance.

"You drive like you pilot," he said, humor coloring his voice. "How are you planning on commandeering Chang's shuttle without getting caught or pursued?"

Maxwell was whipping the BMW around other vehicles on the expressway with a sort of nimble grace that a two ton car shouldn't have possessed. "Preventers will be able to track the shuttle back to L2. They'll follow us, unless Winner can convince Chang to stand down. If he explains the whole story there's no way in hell that Une will let us go in without backup."

Heero briefly considered the benefits of having backup on this mission and immediately dismissed the idea. After what had transpired in that safehouse, and the information they'd obtained at Winner's, he knew that he and Maxwell had to handle this themselves. It was personal.

With a small pang of regret, Heero wondered what it would have been like to know Solo before the ZERO System had destroyed his mind. He wondered what it would have been like to grow up in J's laboratory with a friend. Would Solo have mentored him, like Lowe had? Would they have had some weird version of sibling rivalry? Would Heero have gained greater social functions and understanding?

Cobalt eyes slid sideways to watch Maxwell while he drove. He wondered if his partner would have taken such an interest in his 'social retardation,' as Maxwell liked to call it, if he had understood basic human interpersonal interactions and wasn't so awkward. Heero frowned. Things would have turned out much differently had Solo's mind not been broken by ZERO.

"Duo?" he asked suddenly, and Heero himself wasn't really sure where his words were coming from. "Why are we friends?"

.

"Eh?" Duo slid the car easily around a corner and down the street they had taken from the space port earlier that day. "Friends? Why?" He glanced up at the rearview mirror for only a moment before gripping the steering wheel with both of his gloves hands.

"I dunno. I guess I felt kind of bad for shooting you in the leg that one time," the American pilot replied as he cut off a moving truck. He smirked at the sound of another car leaning on its horn as he cut it off. "I suppose I also thought it would be a challenge to make you accept me. I figured if I kept bothering you enough you would give up and just let me stick around."

No, that wasn't it. He frowned and tried to think of a better answer to Heero's question. He recalled the revelation he had earlier, about Solo and Heero being so much alike.

"I guess you kind of reminded me of Solo," Duo replied honestly. "And I missed that. And I wanted to help you, because I couldn't help him."

There it was. Duo felt a strange tingling sensation in his chest. It was kind of disconcerting. To distract himself from it he hopped up over the curb before expertly skidding the car to a stop in front of the yellow lined loading curb.

He got out of the car and walked over to Heero's door and opened it as a chauffeur, grinning. "Hand me your bags, huh?" He grabbed both tote bags and shouldered them before grabbing Heero by the forearm to help him out of the car. Once they had unloaded from the BMW he shut the door and left it there. Hopefully the good people of L4 would be kind enough to leave it alone. If not, Quatre had enough money to buy another one.

"As far as getting the shuttle goes, I am banking on the idea that the guys who are watching it only recognize the HCA status and not the fact that we aren't tightwad Captains like Wufei. They should let us on," Duo explained his plan as he picked his way through the crowd. He tossed the hat in the nearest trash can and pocketed the gloves. "I'm not really worried about them tracing the ship to L2, they'll know we are going there anyway. I'd like to see them try to catch us. If they try to pursue, I'll just go through the meteor belt."

The meteor belt was a dangerous area often avoided by larger transport vehicles. In the past it was a common shortcut for people with mobile suits. The mobile suits, especially the Gundams, were agile enough to make it through without any damage. It was a risky thing, but Duo was confident he could make it through. It was a lot faster than going all the way around like they had on their original trip to L4.

Duo led the way up the escalators to the main docking deck. He looked around quickly. The spaceport was laid out like so many he had passed through.

"Let's flash our badges through security. They won't check our bags, and I highly doubt Quatre had figured out it was us who took the car. He 'prolly thinks we're still boinking in our room."

Duo tensed. Oops. He hadn't necessarily meant to say that so bluntly. He remembered how uncomfortable Heero had been after his playful show of affection back at the estate. As they sauntered towards the security checkpoint he glanced over at Heero, eyeing him for his reaction.

.

Heero Yuy possessed an extensive vocabulary, despite his best attempts to use only as much of it as was absolutely necessary when speaking to anyone but his partner. He was fluent in five languages and gradually becoming more well-versed in American slang due to time spent around Maxwell. However, as far as Heero was aware, the word 'boinking' did not exist in his mental dictionary.

He followed the braided pilot through the checkpoint, showing the L4 police officer his Preventers badge quickly before stuffing it back into his jeans pocket. Once through the gate he cocked his head thoughtfully and asked, "Why would he think that we were 'boinking'? What does 'boinking' mean?"

The middle-aged woman directly to the left of them gasped in apparent shock and hurried her young daughter away. A few younger travelers laughed but quickly turned away when Heero shot them an annoyed glance. Heero hadn't thought that he'd spoken that loudly, and he was frustrated because he didn't understand the strangers' reaction to his question. Just what the hell had Maxwell been implying?

Heero shifted his duffel over his shoulder and reached down self-consciously to check the front of his jeans over his bullet wound. No blood. That would certainly give the port authorities reason to detain them. He wanted to get to the damned shuttle and try to figure out why Maxwell had based their entire friendship on guilt over shooting him, boredom, and an odd attachment to a dead man.

.

Duo couldn't help himself. Sometimes Heero's ignorance to things that weren't mission-centric was simply hilarious. At the sight of the women and teens laughing at him he gently pat Heero on the shoulder and led him away from the crowd towards the private docking station where the smaller ships were located.

"Man... don't yell that word like that. They'll think we're fags or something." Duo said with a smile, trying not to laugh as Yuy became even more confused. Once they reached the gate where the familiar Preventer ship was Duo made quick work of insisting that they be allowed on the ship. After flashing his PFO badge he had muscled his way through the guards and up the gangplank to the ship. The security said something along the lines of 'but you don't have clearance' but Duo was too preoccupied to pay them much attention. They would probably contact Une to see if this was correct, but by that time Duo would be safely pulling out of the dock and into open space.

He closed the hatch and locked it. The guys at the bottom of the gangplank had made a huge mistake. Once inside, there was no way they were going to get back in.

Duo felt at ease on this vessel. It was a small, slick and new Preventer cruiser. It could accommodate only four people and it was made for speed and evasion. It would be perfect.

Duo's palms itched in anticipation. He set himself at the helm and stuffed his and Heero's bags into the compartment just beside them. He flipped on the controls and began startup procedures.

He could "drive" anything. It was the one thing he was exceptionally good at. That, and shooting things. Except Solo. He frowned at the thought and began strapping himself in the seat. The gravity on the ship began to dissipate as the vessel separated from dock, disconnecting from the magnetic pulse that was giving it false gravity. Duo felt his arms and legs grow weightless. The feeling was thrilling. He hadn't been back in space long enough, and the constricting artificial gravity of the civilian shuttles they had been putting around on was nothing compared to the freedom of a stealth ship.

He glanced over at the co-pilot's chair where Heero always sat. He eyed the other pilot slowly as the engines warmed up. "Just so you know, boinking is another word for 'gettin' it on'. Fucking. Ya know, getting up to your nuts in guts?"

The countdown procedure had completed. He gave it an eight notch thrust, just enough to cruise out of the dock. He checked the starboard video feed and saw the security guards standing on the dock. One was on a phone. Duo zoomed in on the man and grinned when he saw the look of pathetic despair. Colonel Une was the only woman in the universe who could make a full grown man shaken to the point of making that face.

"Looks like the gig is up," Duo said brightly as he maneuvered the ship through the taxi area. He called in to the main gate control, dropped the exit code and watched as a set of doors closed behind them, and the wall in front of them began to drop away, revealing the velvety blackness of space.

He couldn't wait. Despite all rules and procedure of exit, he grabbed both sides of the helm and gave it a ridiculously dangerous amount of thrust. The sophisticated ship responded immediately, bounding forward, leaving a shimmering stream of afterburn in its wake.

The comm began to buzz as L4 colony's flight control tried to hail them. Duo casually reached up to disconnect power to the communications systems. It was quiet save for the humming of the vibrant touchscreen command module. The American pilot reached over to punch in coordinates to L2, numbers he knew by heart, before setting the ship on autopilot. He would allow it to move at full pace to the meteor belt. Until then, he would relax. He unhooked himself from his seat and let the weightlessness of space take him, floating up slightly from his seat.

"This is a nice ass ship. I'm sort of jealous. Fucking Chang, who the hell did he have to blow to get this thing, huh?"

.

Halfway through buckling his flight harness Heero realized that Maxwell was staring at him with a trademark shit-eating smile on his face. That look normally preceded something decidedly unpleasant for Wing's pilot. When his partner explained exactly and in graphic detail what he had meant back in the terminal, Heero's eyes widened noticeably. And then Maxwell went right back to getting their stolen shuttle the hell out of the spaceport.

Heero swallowed around an odd lump in his throat and clicked the five-point harness into place, his hands going through the motions out of habit, his mind elsewhere. Saving the world from imminent destruction meant that, as a teenage boy, Heero had not had time for much besides missions. All of his downtime had been spent doing research, maintenance on his suit, or traveling between target locations. Once he'd enlisted with Preventers, his suit's workload had been replaced with paperwork. He was also not the most socially outgoing person in the galaxy. All of this equated to a very basic and rudimentary knowledge of sex and its many details.

Never once had Heero considered 'Duo Maxwell' and 'sex' in the same sentence. Now that he was, his brain stuttered. And now he understood the odd way his stomach had reacted when Maxwell was invading his personal space, why he blushed uncontrollably when his partner had grabbed his ass back on L4...

Heero stared at the navigational instrument cluster in front of him with single-minded intensity. He was physically attracted to Maxwell. So what? That epiphany in and of itself meant nothing. They were partners. Their working relationship was far too important, especially in the midst of a dangerous mission, to complicate. Besides, Heero honestly wasn't quite sure that he understood the mechanics of homosexual intercourse. His face burned hotter as he tried to bury the image his mutinous mind supplied. No. Maxwell was a friend, not some cheap thrill. This was ridiculous.

How Maxwell got them away from the colony and into open space Heero didn't know. He'd been too busy glaring at the dash of the shuttle to notice. When he felt the artificial gravity release and the familiar weightless sense of traveling through deep space wash over him, the Japanese pilot glanced over at the other agent. Even if he could admit that he was attracted to Maxwell, he was positive that his preoccupation with the braided pilot was completely one-sided. Maxwell had never given the slightest inclination that he saw Heero as anything more than a friend, comrade-in-arms, and partner. Maxwell could certainly find a better bedmate than Heero, too. For all of his teasing, flirting, and constant violation of Heero's personal space, the American agent found Heero's reactions amusing, and that was all.

Heero found himself slumping down into his seat and scowling. No, Maxwell would want someone with personality, someone who shared his precocious sense of humor and quick wit. Maxwell would want someone like his friend Solo, before the man's mind had been shredded by a system that Heero had mastered simply because his emotions didn't function like a normal person's. Maxwell would want a normal person. That was why he'd befriended Heero in the first place, right? Because he reminded the braided man of his dead friend Solo?

Wing's pilot realized that at some point his thoughts had strayed from the concept of physical attraction and into something much more profound, but he couldn't analyze it any further without getting frustrated, and that would compromise his ability to complete his mission. That was unacceptable. Heero gazed out at the stars and the frigid emptiness of space for a long moment before turning to Maxwell. "You don't have to feel guilty for shooting me, you aren't obligated to 'humanize' me, and I'm not Solo," he said quietly. Then he turned back to the starfield on the horizon and chewed his lower lip absently. "We need to find an actual safehouse when we get to L2. If he gets the drop on us again, Barton won't be there to shoot me this time. What's your plan?"

When Heero laid the heavy topics on thick, Duo could do nothing but twitch an eyebrow. He couldn't say that he wasn't any of the things that Heero had said. He didn't necessarily think any of those things were bad.

Well, except the Solo thing. Duo hadn't been cognizant of the fact that he had felt that way about Heero until just a little while ago, and he certainly didn't feel the same way about it now. He knew they were different people. He assumed it had been a subconscious drive when they had first met, but that was years ago. Heero was much different than Solo had been. For one, the guy was nuts. Duo never saw Solo setting his own bones or jumping from high windows. He had never seen Solo pilot a mobile suit - though now he was beginning to think he probably could - and therefore thought of Heero as the superior between the two as far as piloting and saving the world went.

Ugh. His head hurt, and he didn't like the way Yuy was pouting his his seat and scowling. He had to have pissed him off.

He busied himself with floating upwards to bump gently against the ceiling panel of the command module. He eyed a stream of data flickering across a dark monitor. He recognized the data as algorithms from the autopilot mechanism.

"I snagged some cash from the center console of the Beemer," Duo replied plainly. "We can get a hotel room in cash. I am thinking the southside is where he'll most likely be. Then, I guess, we can check out some of our old haunts and see if he is hiding around in there. I don't know why, but I have a feeling there is something big waiting for us on L2. I'm feelin' it in my gut." He put his hand absently on his stomach and sighed. "We'll find him. The only way I can think to do it is to set up some bait."

He glanced down at Heero with a frown before pressing the toes of his boots against a bare spot on the ceiling. He bent his legs and gently propelled himself back to his seat at the helm, gracefully curling his body to plant his ass square in the seat. He grabbed the arms of the chair to keep from bouncing off.

"Hey. I know this is not really a good time to bring this up, but..." Duo glanced over at Heero and frowned. "I don't ever mean to make you feel bad, and I didn't mean to make you feel like shit. I was just trying to answer you honestly. I don't think you're Solo. You're much better than him. I guess I was just trying to figure out why I put up with you threatening to kill me, and stealing my Gundam's parts, and putting me through the wringer for the first two years... and it has to be that I inherently like you. Why I like you, I suppose, it because of that. Maybe. I dunno. I fucking suck at figuring shit like this out. Just know that I think you're a badass pilot, and indestructible agent, and a pretty cool guy. In your own way. When you're not punching things."

.

Heero snorted and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. He obviously wasn't going to get anything more useful out of the braided man. Maybe that was for the best, anyway. They had a mission to complete, and, assuming they both survived Solo's takedown, he could think about it later. In the meantime he resolved himself to avoid any future awkwardness with his partner.

They were nearing the asteroid belt, and Heero waited for Maxwell to take control of the ship back from the autopilot program. And what had that idiot meant when he said he liked Heero, anyway? 'Liked' could men a lot of things and was not limited to a platonic indication. He might as well have said, 'I might want to fuck you.'

Heero felt that blush creeping back up into his cheeks and he growled in frustration, snapping his flight harness open roughly and pushing away from his seat. He would go to the rear of the shuttle, buckle in, and sleep. At least his injured leg wasn't in so much pain; zero-g took the weight from it. Once safely ensconced in a rear seat of the ship and securely strapped in, Heero crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come.

Fine. He retrieved his handheld computer from an exterior pocket and pulled up the files that Winner had given them. Maybe some more research couldn't hurt. There were more files on ZERO's design, which he skipped over, some detailed reports of Heero's first few years of training, and what looked to be a DNA profile. He recognized it as his own from the changes to specific gene markers, but some of J's final tampering was not evident in this profile. There were two gene markers that should have been visibly altered. Odd. Why would J have kept an obviously outdated genetic profile on Heero?

Scrolling towards the bottom of the file, Heero froze. It was labeled 'Pilot 00.' This wasn't his DNA profile; it was Solo's. Heero scrolled upwards again and stared at the profile. They matched in places that were extremely significant. Heero felt the little device float away from his now numb fingers. "He's my brother," he murmured. What the fuck?

"Hey, you say something?" Duo called over his shoulder. He could have sworn he heard Heero say something. Just as he did one of the scanners began to scream on the command module. Duo opened the window. A cruiser had been detected in the distance. It wasn't able to close the distance between the two ships. Duo looked down to check the fuel cells. If he slipped the ship into overdrive now he could close the small distance to the asteroid belt, then use secondary thrusters to maneuver through the space debris.

It took him less than a second to come to this conclusion. He grabbed the controls, snapped the ship out of autopilot and with a small rocking sensation the ship jerked into overdrive.

The engines whirred loudly from the back of the vessel as it slid through space, hurtling recklessly towards the asteroid belt. The ship tried to pursue, but Duo noticed that it was slowing as it neared the belt. Maybe they assumed he would do the same.

Duo grinned. "Not a chance in hell," he said with an amused cackle. The Preventer cruiser entered the asteroid belt, careening through the free-floating debris. Smaller chunks of rock rained on the front window. Duo opened a scanner and began to create a mental map of the pattern the erratic rocks were making on the black canvas of open space in front of them. He checked the rear camera. The ship that had been following them had stopped just outside of the asteroid belt's perimeter.

"Hahahahahaaaa!" Duo laughed happily to himself as he dropped the ship down to avoid a particularly large asteroid. He was having way too much fun.

He manipulated the ship through the belt with a few cackles and the occasional curse or two. It only took half an hour to make it through, unlike the four-hour bypass it would have required if they had gone around manually. As they exited Duo scanned the surrounding area for any other ships. So far so good. They had bought themselves a lot of time to get lost on L2, and it looked as if no reinforcement security ships had been dispatched to the location yet.

He set up the autopilot again and slid out of his seat, turning to grab the headrest to steady himself. "Hey! You were saying something?" He asked, floating freely amongst the many blinking lights and controls.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight  
>[Day 8] L2 Spaceport<p>

After four hours of brooding contemplation and analysis, Heero was beyond ready to dock, find Solo, and shoot him until he got some answers. As it stood he was still waiting for Winner to send him his medical staff's conclusions regarding the two DNA profiles. The email he'd received during the trip to L2 had been vague, which was very wise on the blonde pilot's part. 'Mitochondrial and Y-Chrom investigation,' it had read. 'Focusing on known modified markers. Result ETA 2 hours.' That message had come over an hour ago. Winner had his staff comparing both profiles on the paternal and maternal side, as well as checking Heero's known modified alleles against Solo's. Wing's pilot was almost positive that Winner's medical team would come to the same conclusion he had-not only were they siblings, but their chromosomes lined up so closely that they could have been fraternal twins.

The thought was disturbing.

Heero had never had a family, never considered having one, and wasn't quite sure what he'd do with one if given the opportunity. He wasn't a big fan of attachments, and besides his... odd attraction to Maxwell, he had never sought out the company nor acquaintance of others. Dr. J had not been a father figure to him but a mentor. Odin Lowe had died long before Heero could understand exactly what the man had trained him to become: expert marksman, assassin, soldier, killer, weapon.

Even if it was determined conclusively that he and Solo were indeed brothers, what would it change? The man had killed Merquise and half a dozen other soldiers. He'd tried to kill Heero. He was hell-bent on taking Maxwell away from his partner, by force if necessary. Genetics didn't really matter when your sibling was a deranged sociopath. As Heero grabbed his duffel and stepped out of the stolen Preventers shuttle behind Maxwell, he wondered if he would have done the same thing, committed the same crimes had ZERO so thoroughly destroyed the emotional side of his brain. Maybe he would have destroyed a colony, or killed an entire squadron of people, or fired on Earth. Maybe he would have killed all of the Gundam pilots. Heero cringed at the idea. The other pilots were his friends. He was almost positive that murdering them in cold blood was beyond his very large realm of capabilities.

Following his partner through the terminal, Heero flashed his Preventers badge in all the right places, just quickly enough for the glint of the steel oval to show before closing it. He was almost certain that Une had every authority from Earth to Mars on the lookout for two very conspicuous-looking HCAs. They needed to get out of sight, and quickly. Once they were outside the main spaceport Heero set his duffel down on the curb and scanned the loading area reflexively. "Where to?" he asked without looking at Maxwell. Where embarrassment and a peculiar self-conscious feeling had pervaded Wing's pilot all of four hours ago, he was now avoiding eye contact with his friend out of an odd combination of apprehension and guilt. Maxwell had always had this unique knack for determining Heero's moods based solely on his body language and eyes. He didn't need that used against him now, and that was where the guilt factored in. The Japanese agent was determined to keep this 'brother' thing from Maxwell for as long as humanly possible. He couldn't imagine what kind of mental state the other man would be in if he knew that his partner and was-dead friend were related. Knowing that the man had been Heero's prototype had seemed to upset him enough.

Heero wanted to get this over with. He still didn't trust the braided agent's capacity to kill his childhood friend, regardless of what had last transpired between the two of them, and he knew that he would ultimately be responsible for taking Solo into custody. He was positive that if Solo had his way about things, Heero would be returning him to Preventers headquarters in a bodybag. The idea of killing his own brother was unsettling, to say the least.

.

Duo had followed suit through the spaceport with his bag on his shoulder, feeling a little put off. Heero had hardly said a thing to him. He didn't blame him. Things that had seemed so easy and harmless before were now awkward and confusing. He knew Heero was feeling strange about him, but for the life of him Duo had no idea what was going on in the other pilot's head. He knew he was making Heero uncomfortable.

Duo had glanced over at Heero as the Japanese pilot asked him for direction. He nodded and pointed down the street.

"Yeah. This way." Heero wasn't even looking at him. The American sighed and shrugged before leading the way casually through the dank, dark depths of L2. It was evening, almost 7:30 UST. 8pm would bring curfew, when the lights would dim to cool the solar generators. Only emergency lights were used, a dull grey ambient light that would paint the entire interior of the colony a sickly, yellow-gray.

Duo always thought that when the colony was changed for night, it turned into an old reel-to-reel black and white movie.

After about ten minutes of walking he made it to the south part of the colony. It was the seedier part of town. It was almost dark-time and the streets were practically empty. Duo was glad of the darkness. It made running through the streets, avoiding security cameras, and avoiding retinal scans easier. If the Preventers had called their arrest in the cameras would be scanning for them. It was good that they were almost to their destination.

The "Jefferson Hotel" loomed high over the ramshackle town homes of the south side of the colony. It had been recently remodeled to mimic and British Inn. Stark white shutters against dark green siding, clean and crisp and newly painted, stood out against the drab brown and sand-colored buildings that surrounded it. It even had flowers in small, quaint window boxes. Duo couldn't even remember the last time he had seen flowers on L2.

Even though the building stuck out, it still could easily be overlooked. It was in a dark side of town, and nobody ever went there, making it seem like it had gone out of business. Because of the lack of traffic in and out, most of the locals avoided it. It was too clean and nice for their tastes. To its disadvantage, the hotel was in the worst part of town, which kept the tourists away from its crisp, white-frosted doors.

Duo pushed through them and immediately approached the check-in counter. He spoke to the pale, gaunt girl at the check-in and told her his name was "Max Wellington" and that he needed a room for a few nights. She checked him in without question.

He trudged up the narrow, steep staircase and to the third floor. Once at the room, 632, he swiped the key card. The door clicked open.

He tossed his bag on the one twin-sized bed in the room and went to the bathroom to wash his hands. He hadn't uttered a word to Heero, or looked at the other pilot since they had started their trek to the hotel. As he went to dry his hands he noticed that the miniature soaps around the sink were stuck fast to the imitation marble. They seemed as if they had, over time, been fastened there due to lack of use. Either this place never got customers, or the customers they did have didn't use anything but the bed. Duo straightened from patting his hands dry with the towel and glanced hesitantly in the room at the bed. It was one bed. That wasn't so atypical for the colony. He hadn't remembered to specify for two and if he went downstairs to request another one he would draw more attention to them.

"Yeah, sorry about the bed thing..." Duo said hesitantly. He walked over and grabbed his bag, tugging it to the floor. "It was my bad. I'll sleep on the floor."

.

Heero didn't feel the need to comment on his partner's choice of accommodations. Assuming the windows had bars on them, the hotel room's door locked from the inside, and Solo wasn't waiting for them in the bathroom, Heero would sleep almost anywhere.

Except in that single twin-sized bed with his partner.

His leg was killing him. The return to artificial gravity had immediately dispersed any comfort he'd had aboard the shuttle, and he had the beginnings of a migraine. Winner's e-mail had arrived whilst Maxwell had been checking them in downstairs. His medical team's analysis had matched Heero's own. He and Solo were indeed brothers, and shared almost eighty-percent of the same genetic markers, fifty-percent of which had been modified. Wing's pilot didn't want to consider the implications of that one loaded message. They had a mission to carry out.

When his partner announced that he would sleep on the floor, Heero was faced with a question of etiquette that didn't happen on a normal basis. Or ever. Did he refuse and offer to take the floor instead, or would that insult Maxwell somehow, imply that he was weak and required a mattress? That was stupid, Heero snorted quietly. Deathscythe's pilot had grown up on the streets; mattresses were a luxury. Did he accept the American's suggested sleeping arrangement and forgo an argument, or was Maxwell expecting that?

Heero growled in frustration. Social situations and awkwardness were not things that he had been trained to handle or had gained enough experience in to make confident decisions, and if there was one thing that pissed the Japanese agent off it was being indecisive. He crossed the room, threw the two deadbolts on the door, chained it at the top and bottom, and propped a nearby desk chair under the handle just to be safe. His boots were kicked off into a corner of the small room, his jacket, shirt, and socks shucked without preamble, and he lay down stiffly on the mattress, springs squeaking with age. He chose not to think about the carnal acts no doubt performed on the sheets underneath him. It was one night in a cheap hotel in a seedy part of a seedier colony, and then he would shoot his brother in the head and drag Maxwell back to Belgium. Heero glared at the ceiling. If only it were that simple...

He did his best to ignore his partner as he moved around the room, and when the single light beside the bed was clicked off, it sounded like a threat. Heero reached down and felt the bandaging around his thigh through his cargo pants. If they could get off this colony without adding more holes to his person he would consider it a success.

.

Duo was tired. Piloting that shuttle through the asteroid belt had taken more out of him than he thought it would. It just went to show what a few years and lack of practice could do to someone. He didn't watch as Heero got in the bed. By the time the light was off he had curled up on the floor just next to the foot of the bed. He hadn't bothered to undress. He didn't trust the floor to be that clean. He did, however, toe off his boots and manage to wedge his arm under his head. He instinctively went to tuck his braid over his shoulder and under one arm when he realized it wasn't long enough to sling around like that anymore.

This made him irritated. He curled up tightly and closed his eyes and tried his best to sleep. Soon he was knocked out, snoozing contently on the floor. An hour passed. Then another. It wasn't until the second hour that he began to stir, wakefulness tugging at his consciousness. He had to pee. He groggily stretched, confused at first at finding himself on the floor, but apathetic enough to overlook that little fact.

He stumbled quietly through the bathroom door and took a piss, didn't bother to flush, then wearily rinsed his hands before hobbling to the doorway that separated the bathroom from the main sleeping area. He wasn't aware of his surroundings at all, and the way he moved felt like a dream. He couldn't feel his feet as he kicked off his socks. Later he would hardly remember shedding his clothes, or sleepily wandering towards the bed. He certainly wouldn't recall pulling back the sheet and slipping, naked, into the bed behind Heero.

He was asleep the instant his head hit the stiff pillow. He was dead tired. He reached back absently to retrieve his braid, intending unconsciously to snuggle it for comfort. When he couldn't find its previously long coil he twitched and frowned in his sleep. He was uncomfortable. Insecure. That being said, it was no surprise he found solace in the warmth against Heero's back. And where else is one supposed to put their arms with such a close proximity? It was completely necessary in Duo's unconscious state that he hugged Heero against him.

.

Heero heard his partner get up and stagger into the bathroom; he was instantly awake. He also heard the distinct lack of a flushing toilet. He didn't bother turning around from where he was curled up on the uncomfortable bed. This was typical behavior from the braided menace. What was not so typical, however, were the sounds of clothing hitting the floor, or the sudden pressure of the mattress dipping under Maxwell's weight, or the feeling of his partner pressed to his back.

What.

The.

Hell?

His partner's arms snaked around his waist from behind and suddenly the American agent was pressed closer to him than Heero could remember ever having been to another person. One of Maxwell's hands splayed over Heero's stomach and he forgot to breathe for a good ten seconds. The Japanese man wasn't sure if he was supposed to elbow the idiot in the solar plexus and make a run for it or freeze, so he settled for remaining motionless and staring at the opposite wall of the room. There was no training in the galaxy that could help him in a situation like this.

Maxwell was snoring into the back of his neck. Heero's hand tensed around his gun under his pillow. This was the single most awkward moment of his life.

There was no point in waking the other pilot up. Heero was certain that both parties being made aware of their current state would only increase his embarrassment by another thirty-four percent. He closed his eyes, controlled his breathing, and forced himself back to sleep. He most certainly did not cover the calloused hand over his abdomen with his own.

.

Duo had slept like the dead. He had hardly moved. Sure, he had shifted a few times in his sleep, but he had been so comfortable and safe and blissfully unaware that he was curled up naked with the former perfect soldier that he had slept like a corpse.

Little did he know that he could have easily been a corpse if Heero hadn't have heard him shuffling around like an elephant before hopping into the bed to violate him.

He woke around 0530. It started at first with a stir. He felt warm and comfortable. Something smelled good. He took a deep breath, taking in the faint scent of a familiar shampoo. It smelled like the stuff he had used at Quatre's estate on L4.

He opened one bleary eye and wondered absently where the world had gone. He saw only a plane of dark, chocolate brown. Something tickled his nose. He blinked his one eye and opened his other to join it.

He blinked furiously again. His fingers twitched against something firm, yet somehow soft and fleshy.

Within a millisecond he realized everything. I am on L2 in a hotel with Heero. I was on the floor. Now I am not. I am naked. I am holding someone.

I am holding Heero.

As if Heero's fist had been flying at him at that moment he ducked down for cover, taking the sheets with him. Frantically he scampered backwards off of the narrow bed and fell to the ground in a tangle of sheets and comforter.

"Om... omi... fuck. Fuck. Fuck..." he began tearing at the blanket to pull it away from his head, muttering. "I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry. FUCK!" He somehow managed to hop up to his feet, keeping the blanket wrapped around himself. His mind frantically began to look for clues. Did he have sex with Yuy? No... the Japanese guy was dressed. He had to have been sleepwalking. He began to count his lucky stars that Heero hadn't shot him reflexively. They all had those impulses when startled. He would have done so himself.

As Duo stood there, gawking, staring in shock at the other pilot a thought came to him. Before he could think on it he mumbled, "You... didn't kill me."

.

_"Om... omi... fuck. Fuck. Fuck..."_

They were being attacked.

Heero's instincts wrenched him from a deep sleep and he rolled from the bed into a defensive crouch on the floor, his sidearm in front of him and blindly seeking a target. Blue eyes scoured the room for immediate threats, automatically disregarding Maxwell as an enemy and sweeping past him to the door, which was still every bit as secured as it had been the night before. And then Heero's eyes slid back to his partner, who was huddled in a blanket and apologizing profusely.

The events of the previous eight hours rolled through Heero's mind with the clarity of a digital recording, and several things clicked mechanically into place. Maxwell had woken sometime in the night, relieved himself, and then climbed into the bed with him. He had fallen asleep listening to the Deathscythe pilot's snoring. Apparently the braided wonder hadn't invaded Heero's personal space intentionally, and that explained his now panicked behavior.

Heero would have laughed, had he been watching a movie and not staring at his best friend from across a dirty hotel room.

_"You... didn't kill me."_It sounded more like an accusation than the startled realization that it was. Heero tucked his gun into the back of his waistband and pinched the bridge of his nose in astonishment. No, he hadn't shot the other agent, but he probably should have. How the hell was he going to explain this away? Maxwell was obnoxious, brash, and indisputably unstable, but he was certainly not stupid. Heero couldn't lie and tell his partner that he hadn't noticed being accosted in the dead of night; not only had he never lied to the man in going on five years, but Heero's reaction to being woken without warning was a well-known fact amongst the other pilots.

His flight-or-fight response was kicking in again. He needed to reverse the conversation here, and yell at Maxwell for being so careless. After all, the man could have gotten shot or seriously injured pulling a stunt like that, however accidental it had been, and a soldier should always be aware of his surroundings. Heero glared at the other agent balefully. This whole damned thing was Maxwell's fault: the awkwardness, the embarrassment, the frustration, and the confusing emotions. Wing's pilot opened his mouth to shout at his partner that they were in the middle of one of the most important and dangerous missions since the wars, that they had literally no backup from Preventers and were probably being considered fugitive operatives at this point, that one mistake could cost one or both of their lives-

"I think I'm in love with you," he shouted.

Heero's brain came to a screeching halt. He hadn't meant to say that. That had definitely not been in his laundry list of things to yell at Maxwell. It was, however, on his shorter list of things to never say to his partner under even duress or outright torture. Heero's mouth snapped shut and he turned on his heel, grabbed his jacket and his duffel bag, and left the hotel room as quickly as all of his security measures would allow. He was halfway up the street when he realized that it was raining and he had absolutely no idea where he was going. His jaw clenched and he kept marching stubbornly. If Maxwell could survive here, then Heero could last long enough to track down Solo and beat the ever-living piss out of him. The Japanese agent really needed to break something, and he'd prefer it be his jackass upstart of a brother than his damned best friend.

Maxwell probably hated his guts now. Heero figured he deserved it; he had tainted their friendship with his ridiculous emotions and petty thoughts. He was a weapon, a flawlessly designed and perfectly engineered tool for destruction and death. What the hell would someone as vibrant and charismatic as Maxwell ever see in him? This was why soldiers couldn't afford attachments. They were a liability. They could be used against you. They hurt like hell to leave behind. Heero squashed the rising anxiety in his chest. Never again would his feelings effect his duty. Dr. Wolfstadt could go fuck himself.

Things were moving tooo fast. Duo wasn't sure he was even actually awake when Heero said the last words Duo thought he would ever hear the Wing pilot say to him, and then vanish out of the room as if Treize had suddenly risen from the dead.

.

Duo had dropped the blanket in his shock. He was dumbstruck. He couldn't believe it. Heero Yuy was in love with... him?

Now, Duo had no opposition to gay relationships. He had done his fair share of experimentation when he was younger, before he was commissioned to the war. This was AC199, and people had no prejudice to same-sex relationships like they had two hundred years ago. No, it wasn't that, it was the source in particular that Duo was in shock by. Heero Yuy was the most hardened agent the Preventer's had. After the thing with Relena, Duo assumed Heero had no soft spot for people romantically. There was a pretty woman like that practically begging for the Japanese man's attention, and Heero never seemed that interested in her.

_But me...?_

Duo frowned as he suddenly realized what all of Heero's behavior in the past few days meant. Instantly he felt like a complete asshole.

The Japanese man was avoiding eye contact because Duo was making him uncomfortable. Duo's playful ass grab on L4 had actually freaked Heero out.

Duo didn't know how he felt about the former Wing pilot. He liked him a lot. He definitely respected his abilities. He felt a deep camaraderie for Heero. He was sure Heero was the only person on the planet who understood him, even though they never really had an open conversation about their feelings.

Duo wasn't sure what love was. He had seen movies before when they used to show them in the park uptown L2. Movies of people clutching one another by the shoulders, kissing passionately in front of waterfalls…

He couldn't imagine himself doing something like that. He definitely couldn't imagine himself with the Wing pilot in front of a sparkling rainbow, making out.

Heero had known that Duo was in the bed with him the whole night. Even with Heero's confession, Duo was still shocked that the other pilot had let him do that to him.

It had been nice. Duo hadn't slept so well in such a long time. Even the perfect soldier needed comfort and companionship. Oddly enough, Duo found nothing wrong with that fact. He was just shocked.

Quickly the braided pilot dressed and shouldered his bag. He would have to find Heero somewhere on this colony. Hadn't Heero said that they should work together as a team to beat Solo?

He would try to find Heero, though he had no idea where the other pilot went. Then, when he did find Yuy, he would try his best to forget what the other pilot had said. He knew Heero may have regreted for telling him that, and he didn't want to make Yuy any more uncomfortable than he already had.

The mission. They had to finish the mission.

Duo felt this face grow hot as he descended the stairs of the hotel. This was going to be awkward.

.

It had taken all of fifteen minutes to get a minimum of four blocks between himself and The Jefferson, duck into an impoverished-looking thrift store, and swap out his obviously military-inspired clothing for things that wouldn't make him stand out quite so much on L2-stained white tee shirt, well-worn jeans with rips at the knees and front pockets. His boots he refused to part with, but he traded in his standard-issue Preventers duffel for a less conspicuous backpack. Then Heero was back on the trash-strewn streets of his partner's home colony in search of a crowded place in which to disappear for long enough to contact Winner by vidphone.

The spaceport was certainly not an option; it had been risky to dock a stolen Preventers shuttle there and simply waltz out, and returning to an area swarming with agents who had probably memorized his file photo was definitely not the smartest idea. So Heero went looking for a metro station. All of the colonies had a lightrail-based method of mass transit to discourage citizens from owning personal vehicles. The pollution that cars and trucks fed into the colony's precariously maintained atmosphere only hindered the ancient air purification and recycling systems. Heero swore under his breath as every sign he encountered was written in standard American English. Japanese was his native language, and while he spoke proper English almost flawlessly, reading it was another matter entirely. There were simply too many words in the bastardization of the language with multiple meanings, and the sheer number of 'borrowed' foreign words always threw him off base.

If his translation was at all decent, and he was seventy-three percent certain that it was, then the nearest metro station was a block away. Heero walked at a brisk enough pace, fast enough to put more distance between himself and what was probably the biggest mistake of his life, but not so quickly as to make himself appear suspicious. He found that a little ironic, however; everyone on L2 was suspicious. The place was a festering breeding ground for crime and shady business. The station was little more than a metal platform with chipped grey paint suspended over a rusted rail line, with a small sign proclaiming L2 Metro to be 'the fastest train topside.' Heero noted that there appeared to be bullet holes through all of the a's and o's on the sign. Charming.

The Japanese agent's thoughts turned back to his partner. Maxwell would have found the sign terribly amusing. He found a lot of things interesting or funny that Heero either didn't quite understand or appreciate. He chewed his lower lip and ripped his attentions rather firmly away from all thoughts of the startled violet eyes he'd left in that dismal hotel room. Instead he threaded in amongst the waiting crowd, scanning habitually for immediate dangers before retrieving his handheld computer and pulling up the direct satellite line to Winner's personal office. He wasn't surprised when Barton answered the call, nodding once at Heero's image on the screen to acknowledge that he was indeed safe and alive before calling Winner to the terminal.

The blonde pilot did seem a bit flustered to see him. "Heero, you know that contact like this is risky. I'm a bit surprised with you," he reprimanded in a way that didn't quite feel as condescending as it was intended to. "What's going on?"

Heero kept his voice low and murmured into the speaker. "I need a list of possible locations in which my br-" Heero shook his head violently, "Solo," he corrected himself forcefully, "Might hide. Old hangouts, connections, residences."

There was a silence between the pilots, and then Winner's expression hardened. "Heero, where is Duo?"

Busted. Wing's agent kept his face as neutral as absolutely possible. "We were separated. I need this information, and I need it now."

Winner nodded slowly, recognizing the half-truth. Heero had never been good at lying, and hence avoided the practice, but he was running out of time. "Try the site of the Maxwell Church fire. There's no structure anymore, but I remember Duo mentioning that he and Solo grew up there. 15th and Mallory," the blonde replied tersely. Then he disconnected the line without further ado. Heero sighed quietly, tucked the computer away, and went to find a map. He'd heard Maxwell speak of the fire that had destroyed his home once, but Heero had never anticipated needing to visit the site.

.

Duo wasn't sure where Heero had run off to. At first he thought he would chase after him and try to catch him before they gained too much distance between them, but he knew that on this crowded, dark colony the likelihood of him finding Heero would be slim.

He decided he would continue on with the mission. It was probably what Heero was doing anyway. He was a little miffed that the Japanese pilot ran out on him, but he couldn't be entirely pissed at him. He had molested the poor guy in his sleep. And apparently Heero had a crush on him. He hadn't expected Heero to be able to deal with something like that.

As he walked down the street he decided he would try going to some of his old childhood hang-outs to see if he could find any information on Solo. The nearest thing was the old Junction House, a pawn shop where he and Solo used to pawn the things they stole. The ownership had changed since then, Duo knew. It was once owned and run by a guy named Aldon Steamwork, but the guy had died in a robbery a few years ago. His stepson, Roderick, was now the owner and manager.

He made his way up damp road, wet from the morning's cleansing scheduled artificial rain. His boots made a faint slapping sound on the wet cement. He tried not to think about earlier, but he couldn't help it.

_Heero likes me. What the fuck?_

He rubbed the back of his head absently and turned down a narrow corridor to take a shortcut to Abbey Road, where the Junction House would be only a half a block East.

He still couldn't believe it. Heero, the most celebrated Gundam pilot he had ever known, the hardened soldier, the killing machine- liked him. He wouldn't have ever guessed that was Heero's problem. Duo didn't feel worthy of such a feeling from the Japanese man. What made Duo so great that Heero would come to like him? As far as Duo could tell all these years he only seemed to be getting on the other pilot's nerves. All of the quiet murmurs of hate, the half-hearted death threats, the teeth grinding and the eyebrow twitches directed at Duo over the years had done little to prepare the American pilot for this.

The thing was, though he was surprised, he really was sort of happy that Heero felt that way about him. He had just only found out that Heero thought of him as a friend. That had been good enough for Duo, but now that Yuy was more intensely interested in him, Duo felt suddenly flattered.

He closed his eyes as he walked for a moment and sighed. Trying to figure out Yuy was like trying to solve a Rubik's Cube with a blindfold.

Duo paused when he felt something move in front of him. His eyes snapped open and he instinctively ducked his head, just barely missing the fist that was arching down towards his face. He jumped backwards and reached for his gun.

Three things happened. The first was that Duo pulled his gun out and aimed it at the figure standing in front of him. The second was that another figure slipped from the shadows and approached the braided pilot from behind.

The third was that Duo unleashed a horrific array of punches, kicks and gut-jabs into the two muggers, sending them scampering like rats out of the alleyway.

This was Duo's home turf. He would be damned if some half-baked muggers were going to get the best of him. He slid his gun back into his holster vest, hidden securely beneath his black jacket, and then continued down the alley and out onto Abbey Road, dusting his hands off contentedly.

.

That L2 hadn't even erected a memorial to the Maxwell Church Massacre and instead had built a parking garage in the space where the shabby wooden building had once stood was a travesty, in Heero's opinion. He had expected a cement foundation, maybe, or the fire-hollowed walls of an old building, but instead he was staring out across L2's streets and buildings, up the curved slope of the colony's interior in the distance, from five levels up. This was another dead end, and Heero had been so obstinately certain that he would find something here: a clue, a lead, even a suspect.

As much as he hated to admit this, he needed Maxwell's help. Who would know Solo better than the kid who'd grown up with him? Heero suspected irony in that statement; according to J's files, Heero too had 'grown up' with Solo, but it seemed that neither soldier had any memories of it. Wing's pilot was glad that J was already dead. If he'd still been lurking amongst the colonies Heero was certain he'd be inclined to track the crazy old bastard down and beat the shit out of him. Creating one super soldier was a bad enough idea; two was just asking for trouble.

He heard a car door shut behind him and glanced over his left shoulder, but it was an older man parking his vehicle and walking towards the lift. Non-threat. Heero's shoulders lost some of their tension. He was on a hair-trigger after his last encounter with both Solo and Duo. Maybe it was time to call Une and negotiate a surrender? Heero snorted derisively. Not a chance in hell.

"You looking for something?" The voice that addressed him was approximately twenty feet behind him to his seven o' clock and male. Decidedly male. Familiarly male. Heero's hand crept towards the sidearm at his hip and heard a clucking tongue. "No, that would be too easy. Besides, I'd put three bullets in you before you could draw." The voice was right behind him now, breath fanning over the back of his neck and causing the hairs on his arms to stand on end. "I know your reaction times. Mine are just as fast."

Heero could do little more than stand there, on the edge of a structure four stories off the ground, and wait. "What do you want from me, Solo?" he asked evenly. The other man chuckled without humor.

"Isn't that the million dollar question?" he drawled lazily, pushing the muzzle of his gun against the back of Heero's neck, then slowly dragging it down his spine. "I wouldn't mind getting you out of the way. I've noticed that Duo has an almost unhealthy protective streak when it comes to you, and you're nothing more than my replacement." The murderer edged closer, and Heero considered risking another gunshot wound or three to attempt to disarm the man. "Surely you've realized this by now? Duo doesn't have any real feelings for you, 'Ro." Solo was in Heero's ear now and the Japanese agent shuddered angrily at the other man's use of his partner's former nickname for him. It usually annoyed him to no end to have his name butchered by the American pilot, but coming from Solo's mouth it sounded like an insult.

"If you're so confident that I'm just a stand-in then why are you so intent on neutralizing me as a threat?" Heero countered in a careful tone.

Solo growled, obviously annoyed that his scare tactics weren't quite as effective as he'd wanted them to be. "Because you piss me off. Wing was my Gundam. I was trained to be the best pilot, the best combat tactician, the best soldier..." The other man took a small, calming breath and laughed viciously. "I could handle the ZERO System," he snarled, jabbing the dangerous end of the gun fiercely into Heero's middle back. "It's not my fault that quack J botched the programming and forgot to compensate for the human aspect of the pilot. I'm not a robot. He had a hard time remembering that."

The thoughtful tone in Solo's voice was replaced suddenly by vindictive fury. "He fixed the glitch before you came along. By the time he'd finished souping you up with all of the experimentation he'd pioneered on my sorry ass I was long gone. The other scientists tried to kill me, y'know. Tried to infect me with some mutated plague strain that my immunities didn't protect me against. It failed. Instead they let me carry that damned virus into L2, and it killed so many people. Almost killed me, too, but I survived, obviously. Duo thought I'd died, and then the orphanage was burned to the ground, and I guess he got picked up by the Sweepers and went off to pilot Deathscythe. They couldn't have picked a better pilot for that damned thing. Kid's got spirit, but he can be downright hateful when he wants to be."

Heero was starting to get the feeling that this situation wasn't nearly as dangerous as he had first assumed. Solo wouldn't be telling him all of this information if he intended to shoot him in the back and leave him to bleed to death on top of a parking garage. Or the man was just as mentally unhinged as the reports suggested. Heero was praying for a compromise of the two theories. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked quietly.

The gun was removed from his back and Heero felt a strong hand take his shoulder, spin him around, pin him up against the iron-reinforced cement wall that ringed the top of the garage. Solo's eyes were cobalt blue. His hair was a dark, chocolate-colored brown. His skin was the exact shade as Heero's. The resemblance in his facial structure was uncanny. "I didn't kill Zechs Merquise," Solo said roughly, but his voice softened as his eyes-eyes that matched Heero's perfectly-continued to study the slightly shorter man he had at gunpoint. "Agent Jackson did it. I know the Preventers has her in custody. She's part of a larger rebel faction within ESUN and the Preventers that believes you six pilots to be a threat to peace with your very existence. You know I'm right, and that's why ESUN has Une keeping you under a fucking microscope. I knew about Jackson's plan to kill Merquise. Her faction tried to recruit me during a random encounter here on L2 a few years ago. I did nothing because I had no obligation to. I did ask her to leave that clue for you two under those beer cans."

This didn't make a damned bit of sense. Why in the hell go through all of that trouble when everyone thought you had died? His confusion must have registered on his face because Solo's lips twisted into a feral smirk. "And you're supposed to be exceptionally intelligent?" Heero felt himself glaring at the other man despite the obvious mortal peril of his current position. "There are bigger fish in the pond than Jackson's little group of rebels," he said. "There's an organized resistance group forming within the colonies. They want ESUN out of space and they want autonomy. They think that nothing has changed in space. I'm inclined to agree with them, at least as far as L2 is concerned. This place is still the same shithole that it was ten years ago. The government is corrupt, the colony infrastructure is in shambles, and people here can't work to make an honest living without being raped, robbed, or murdered in the streets. Earth is rebuilding, but L2 can't. Not with the way things are now."

Solo lowered his gun slowly once he saw that he had Heero's undivided attention. He gave the other man a pensive look before continuing. "The resistance movement started in the Sweepers, of all places. That's how I got involved. It's spread to other colonies, though, and Jackson's group went rogue with those murders. I needed you," he put emphasis on the last word, jabbing a finger into Heero's chest, "To use that genetically altered brain of yours to put the pieces together enough to figure out who I was, what relation I have to you, and why J abandoned me. I may have the emotional capacity of a fucking tablespoon, but I am not a murderer," he growled.

Shaking his head in overwhelmed amazement, Heero felt his knees turn to jelly beneath him. He slid down the wall onto his ass on the wet cement. Solo squatted down in front of him, elbows on his knees, scratching his temple irritably with the muzzle of his presumably loaded weapon. "Look, kid. I know this sounds like some sort of made-for-TV crime drama, but it's not. Our autobiographies read like a damned science fiction novel, but you know they're true. This is true, too. I don't lie." The way he spoke those last words, the conviction in his eyes, reminded Heero painfully of his partner, and he was certain that Solo had been the source of Maxwell's obsession with the truth. "You have to stop the resistance, and you have to do it quickly. They're already building mobile suits on a resource satellite, but I don't have the abilities to pinpoint which one. They don't trust me enough yet. I need your help," he admitted grudgingly, and it seemed like every syllable was causing him physical pain to speak.

Heero nodded once in acknowledgement, but he still had so many questions. He mulled over what the man had told him to this point, chewing his lower lip, and was startled from his thoughts when Solo reached forward and flicked Heero's mouth lightly. "I used to do that as a kid," he said, amusement coloring his voice. "Helped me think." Heero's cobalt eyes met their exact match and Wing's pilot scowled.

"You've known this entire time, haven't you?" he asked, and he was surprised by the amount of accusatory anger in his own voice.

Solo nodded without further elaboration. "Yeah, I knew. I never had any intention of shooting you," he chuckled darkly, leaning forward to ruffle Heero's messy hair with an odd fondness in his eyes. "But you're a dangerous little fucker. I had to get you two to investigate me for yourselves. You wouldn't have believed me if I had just told you all of this from the start. Hell, Duo would have had a heart attack if I had waltzed into Brussels." Heero knew that the other man was right. He glared down at Solo's boots. This whole scenario was just so fucked up...

Standing to his full height and stowing his gun away, Solo cocked his head to the side in a manner that Heero knew he himself replicated frequently. "I wanted to contact you somehow, but until the wars were over I could never access your file. Once ESUN got leashes on you six pilots I was finally able to crack into Preventers' mainframe and track you down. I knew about Duo. Saw his cute ass plastered all over the news when OZ got him back in 195." His voice took a decidedly sour tone then. "Don't get too attached to your partner, Heero. I've been in love with that kid since before he knew what a mobile suit was. You don't stand a chance. Duo and me are from the same world. I understand him in a way you'll never be able to. This is something that all of J's training can't help you with, little bro."

Heero couldn't find a retort for that. This morning had already proven Solo's point. It stung worse than the healing hole in his thigh. "I'll contact you once I pinpoint the resource satellite where these bastards are manufacturing suits. Give me three days."

And then Solo was turning and walking away, disappearing into the lift of the garage, confident that Heero wouldn't follow him. The Japanese agent had no motivation to move from where he was still sitting on the cold cement. He wasn't sure where to begin in processing all of this information, its implications, or its applications. He buried his head in his hands and took a deep breath. Just what the hell had he gotten himself into?

.

Duo didn't find any new information from the pawn shop kid. Nobody had heard anything of Solo since before the plague. Duo knew Solo wasn't dumb enough to use his old nickname in public. Duo didn't have much to go on, but he had to try. He thanked the kid for his time before leaving the shop. He wandered down the street, reliving the nostalgia of his childhood that the colony inspired. Despite the darkness that accompanied the past, he felt attached and warm to the memories. The many times he had hidden in these dark shadows alongside the only family he had known, Solo and the other orphans, hiding from those who wanted to help them as well as hurt them, fearful that they would be separated by meddlesome adults like Father Maxwell and the police.

Duo had loved Solo. Before the other boy's death, Duo had been happy and positive. He was the one always reassuring the other kids that everything would be okay. He had been the jokester, the prankster, the clown. Every close call with the cops or the orphanages had been laughed away, smoothed over by his carefree nature.

After the death of Solo, Duo had felt completely empty inside. He was alone, even though the church had taken him in and Sister Helen had tried to mother him. Alone, with his sick thoughts. Alone with his true feelings.

The church. Duo figured he should try that next. As he made his way to the lightrail station he began to think about the time that he and Solo were sitting on the roof of the Killer Katz, a seedy strip club downtown. He remembered asking Solo, who was a few years older and much more knowledgeable about the ways of the world, about a peculiar thing he had seem in an alley earlier that night.

"I saw them touching," His younger self had replied plainly, referring to the two men he had witnessed making out and consequently fucking one another in the darkness.

Solo had simply smiled at him, shrugged, them gently kissed him on the lips and told him that one day they should try that, too. Duo felt his face flush at the memory as he boarded the ligtrail.

He had been exposed to such things at such a young age. As he took a lean against the grab pole of the rail he wondered if Heero even knew about stuff like that. The guy had been trained for anything. Did he know anything about intimacy? Or pleasure? Duo wondered if Heero had ever kissed Relena. He was sure he had heard something about Relena and Heero kissing from Quatre who, up until the other day, thought Heero and Relena would be a perfect couple.

Duo smiled at the thought of Heero awkwardly trying to kiss Relena. Then he thought of himself grabbing the Wing pilot to show him how it was done.

He felt his chest tighten at the thought. Kissing Heero... He would have never thought of something like that a few days ago. He wondered why he had never thought of Heero in a sexual way before. Maybe because when he first met he guy he had mentally stuffed Heero that category of 'people who I can't possibly be good enough for'. That was probably it.

The lightrail stopped. He stepped through the hissing door to the platform. Quickly he slipped through the crowd and out to the familiar street where the church had once stood. Duo knew about the parking garage that was built over the former site. He knew he should have been upset, but somehow it didn't matter. He reached into his pocket and felt the familiar chain and golden cross nestled beneath his wallet. He always had it, but hardly wore it anymore. It was the only thing from his past he had left, and he didn't want to lose it in a fight or have the chain break while in action. Not to mention it was against Preventer policy to demonstrate any religious practice while on the job.

Not that he cared much about that part. He ascended the steps to the parking garage and landed his foot heavily on the top floor. He gave a small sigh, looked around at the dismal and polluted air that hung just overhead. When he was a kid he had always imagined that souls in space didn't go to heaven, they got stuck in clouds just over the houses in the colony. He smiled at the thought. He was such a dumb, hopeful kid.

He began to walk up to the railing, and was just about to look over the edge when he saw a figure crouched nearby. He immediately recognized the slight, muscular frame and messy hair.

"Heero!" He ran over and knelt down in front of the Japanese man. "Are you okay?" Immediately he began to search the other pilot for fresh bullet wounds.

.

Heero half-heartedly fought against the hands tugging at his shirt and patting down his torso. "Stop," he sighed, "I'm fine." The concern on Maxwell's handsome face was unnerving; hadn't Heero destroyed their already-shaky friendship not hours before? Why was Maxwell looking for him? How was he supposed to tell him about Solo?

Slumping back against the cement retaining wall, Heero buried his face in his hands once more and groaned quietly in frustration. He had to tell his partner. They had to find this rebel group and stop them from manufacturing suits. Was their job as mercenaries never over? Heero had never imagined himself settling down in the suburbs with a mortgage and a 401K, but the idea had become exponentially appealing in the past twenty-four hours.

"I ran into Solo," he muttered. "I found a file on him during the trip back here yesterday. It was a DNA profile. I had Winner cross-reference it against mine." Heero braced himself for a loud and angry tirade from his friend and spoke resignedly into his knees. "It's an eighty-percent match." The rest of his confession tumbled from his lips in a cascade of words that he couldn't seem to stop. He needed to get this out before Maxwell decided to start screaming. "Solo didn't kill Merquise; Jackson did. She's part of a splinter cell of a larger resistance group that wants to fight ESUN for colonial autonomy. They're manufacturing mobile suits on a resource satellite, but we don't know which. Solo has infiltrated the group and is investigating it. He said that he will contact us in three days with more information."

Feeling either exceptionally brave or reckless, Heero lifted his head from his hands and looked up at his partner, still kneeling before him on the cement floor of the garage. The look on Maxwell's face was not particularly promising. There weren't many people in the world who could cow Heero Yuy, but an irate Duo Maxwell was less appealing to face down than a furious Colonel Une, and Heero briefly considered throwing himself over the side of the parking garage's retaining wall. He figured it would be less painful than his partner's reaction.

.

A severe wave of emotion slithered through Duo's body. He frowned and stared at Yuy wordlesslyas the Japanese pilot explained the situation. Duo believed him, but with that belief came anger.

Solo was manipulating him. He had scared the ever-living shit out of him, put a gun to his partner's head, and totally mindfucked him, when all he had to do was dial Duo on a fucking comm and tell him the situation.

Duo hated backhanded shit. His rage began to swim in his eyes. His body began to grow tense. Solo had practically lied to him, and Heero... He had to know about the connection between the two of them, and he hadn't said a thing.

Duo sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady his voice, which came out dark and flat despite his best efforts to keep his cool."You knew, but you didn't tell me. You'll fucking admit how much you love me, but you can't be bothered to tell me this shut until now?" His shoulders began to shake. He was hurt, and when Duo was hurt he often teetered on the edge of rage.

"He fucking lied to me, and so did you, essentially. I am not fucking surprised you two are fucking related." He was slipping, and he knew it. "You fucking prick!"

There it was. He felt himself slip into the dark place, the wild place in his soul he often tried to avoid through grins and happy smiles. "If you fucking love me like you say you do, then don't you ... Don't..."

Then, rather than cry, his hand came up in a furious swipe to slap Heero Yuy soundly across the face. He felt his eyes smoldering with heat, and filling with tears. "You fucking left me! Sure, some fucking brothers, how lucky I am to have you fucking two. Leading me on, making me love you, then just throwing me away like I am not fucking worth a thing'!"

Duo felt his throat tighten. He wanted to slap Heero's stunned face again. He hissed and forced himself to slide backwards on the cement away from him, his fists clenching, shoulders quivering uncontrollably.

.

Heero didn't retaliate when his partner's palm connected solidly with his cheek. At least, not immediately. His head snapped to the side and he let it; going with the momentum hurt less. It still stung. His right eye was tearing up of its own volition, and his skin was on fire. In some distant part of his mind, the part that recognized that he did in fact love his partner, Heero registered that he had probably deserved that hit. His soldiering instincts, however, prompted him to completely disregard the American's heated words and launch himself bodily at the other agent.

If there was one pilot amongst the four others that could give as good as he got in a close-quarters brawl with Heero, it had to be Duo, but Wing's pilot wasn't thinking about that at the moment. He tackled the other man without a second thought. With one hand crushing a wrist to wet cement and his thighs pinning Maxwell's hips to the ground, Heero cocked back his free fist and punched the braided agent in the chest with enough force to wind any normal person.

"What the hell was I supposed to do?" Heero snarled. "You couldn't put a bullet in him when he was a mass-murdering psycho! You damned well wouldn't shoot him knowing what he really is!"

.

Duo gasped hoarsely as he strained against the other pilot's grip. He snarled like an animal, trapped against the wet cement, and arched his back as hard as he could against the ground. He was strong, and as he writhed and shifted his body he managed to shift Heero up just enough to slip his damp wrist out of the other soldier's hand. He threw his fist straight for Heero's stomach, landing the blow fiercely against his abdomen.

"You can't fucking know what that is like!" He screamed, his voice cracking with emotion and lack of breath. His eyes were streaming tears, glistening beads slipping haphazardly across his cheeks to the hard cement behind him. He jerked his body with all his strength again and groaned I'm anguish. "You've never lost someone you loved." He swung his arm again, aiming for Heero's jaw.

.

The blow to his stomach fucking hurt, but the anger fueling his partner's violent actions was only making him sloppy and careless. Maxwell was shouting at him, crying, for space's sake, and when he swung for Heero's face the Japanese pilot caught his fist in his free hand and nailed it to the ground, securing the American's other hand and pinning them on either side of Maxwell's head. Heero leaned all of his weight onto the trapped extremities to avoid another punch. "I've never loved anyone before," he barked. Heero was beyond pissed. "I'm a fucking weapon. My sole purpose in life is to maim, kill, and destroy. How am I supposed to understand any of this?"

Heero had had a difficult enough time processing his awkward friendship with Maxwell. The realization that those feelings had progressed beyond the bounds of platonic camaraderie had taken a long time, and his admission to the other man would have taken longer had it not been for Heero's slip up at the hotel that morning. He'd discovered less than twenty-four hours ago that he had a brother-whom he was still convinced wasn't quite playing with a full deck-and Solo was hell-bent on keeping Heero from investigating any of his newly acknowledged feelings for his best friend. The world, including his idiot partner, was conspiring against him. He was absolutely fucking convinced.

.

Duo grit his teeth I'm frustration as Heero immobilized him. He was angry, his whole body completely out of his control. He sneered viciously up at Heero, his eyes hateful and vengeful.

"Well, now. Guess you're not so fucking perfect after all," he hissed nastily. He glared up at Heero through thick, heavy tears. He couldn't stop them. They were tears of hurt, rather than sadness, creating an unfocused, distorted world around him. He tugged angrily at his wrists again, snarling, "Let me fucking go!"

.

No, he probably wasn't that perfect, Wing's pilot thought, and the way his friend spat those words at him, like a weapon, stung more than physical damage. _"Let me fucking go!"_

Heero snorted angrily. "So you can try to beat the shit out of me, again?" It was probably a stupid thing to do, but watching the self-proclaimed 'God of Death' cry was getting to him, and Heero sat up enough to release his partner's wrists. If he was fast enough, and Heero calculated his odds at one in three, then he could roll to the side, dodge any more serious blows, and get to his feet quickly enough to avoid another fist-sized bruise to match the one he could feel forming on his stomach.

The vicious look on Maxwell's face told him instantly that releasing the other man's hands had been a perhaps fatal mistake.

.

The moment Heero released his hands he grabbed the Wing pilot's shirt, keeping him from escaping his next attack. He wanted to let Heero have it, the unrestrained slew of attacks that had been building up inside. He wanted to scream and punch and kick and pay back all of the mean words Heero had ever said to him, all of the tricks and underhanded things the Wing pilot had done in the past, to pay it back in physical form. He yanked Heero's shirt, pulling the other pilot closer, preparing to kick the other pilot over his head, when the image he had concocted earlier on the train of he and Heero kissing flashed on his vision.

As he stared into Heero's confused cobalt eyes he realized why he wanted to hurt him. Why all of those past wrongs hurt so bad.

In a split second he pulled Heero's face down and rocked himself up, making it possible to replicate the daydream he had earlier that afternoon. He kissed Heero roughly, in the simplest and plainest of universal gestures of affection ever created.

.

Heero had been prepared to fend off a number of underhanded tactics, but this one took him completely by surprise. Maxwell's lips were soft against his, despite the bruising force with which the braided agent had kissed him, and the electric chill that ran up Heero's spine startled him. He jerked back from the unexpected contact as if burned and decked Maxwell in the jaw reflexively before processing exactly what had happened.

Wide blue eyes stared at Deathscythe's pilot. Heero realized a bit belatedly that he was still practically sitting in his partner's lap. This was fucking awkward. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to hit the American again, run, or kiss him back.

.

Duo could take a hit. When Heero's sure fist slammed against his face he flinched, feeling the searing pain of a forming bruise bite his flesh.

He flopped back hard against the cement and draped his free arm over his now closed eyes. He sucked in an uneven breath before speaking quietly, "We are so fucked up."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE  
>[Day 9] Maxwell Scrap, L2<p>

They had left the garage with an uneasy understanding-the risk of physical violence toward one another was simply too high to continue the argument, and they still had a mission to complete.

Heero rubbed his stomach unconsciously as his free hand flew over the keys of one of the many computer terminals in the scrapyard's main office. He'd contacted Winner and Barton this morning, and right now his goal was to track down Chang on whichever shuttle he'd used to replace the one they'd stolen two days ago. The Chinese pilot was headed toward L2; of that, the Winner had been absolutely positive. He had added with an almost gleeful sparkle to his blue eyes that Chang was beyond angry with Heero and Duo. Wing's pilot had shrugged off that small detail. He fully anticipated Altron's pilot launching into the tirade to end all others when he finally caught up to them.

A few more keystrokes had Chang's shuttle tracked down, and Heero hailed its bridge with a secured vidline. The Preventers agent piloting the damned thing about fainted when Heero announced that he was, "HCA Azrael with an urgent report for Captain Chang." He watched the startled young man throw the shuttle into autopilot before practically running from the controls to find his superior. Chang appeared on the screen less than thirty seconds later, and he looked angry enough to kill. "Azrael," he growled, "You have two minutes to explain yourself before I court-martial both you and Dumah's moronic asses."

Heero smirked. That was a hollow threat and they both knew it. If Heero and Duo decided that they didn't want to be located, they were both more than capable of simply disappearing off the grid. "Rendezvous point is the scrapyard," he said briskly. "This information is to sensitive to risk interception." He paused for a moment, cocking his head thoughtfully to the side, then added, "This is big, Wufei." Then he cut the connection. If Chang was already en route then they could expect him within the next twenty-four hours. Intercolony transport wasn't normally a lengthy affair.

Leaning his chair back on two legs, Heero stretched his arms back and over his head, wincing when his abdominal muscles contracted beneath the livid bruise forming there. He really wanted to sort out this whole mess with his partner. After Duo-Heero had given up the pretense of referring to him as 'Maxwell,' even in his own mind-had grabbed him by the front of his shirt and kissed him, Heero was certain to a tenth of a percent that the braided pilot returned his awkward feelings. Beyond that, though, Heero was at a loss. He had no idea how to proceed from here, and Solo's parting words to him were still ringing in his ears. Moreover, they had to locate this resource satellite factory and crush this newest threat to their hard-won and fragile peace.

The legs of his chair came back to the floor and Heero sighed. "We have two days to form a plan of attack. By then Solo should have found the satellite. You know the Sweepers. Where do we start?"

Once the two of them had decided to stop decking one another Heero remembered sitting back on his partner's thighs and explaining everything that had transpired between he and Solo. He opted to leave out the bit about his brother's apparent rivalry for Duo's affections. After a few tense moments of silence Heero had gotten shakily to his feet, discreetly readjusted the front of his jeans, and helped his friend up from the ground. He was more than a little disturbed that beating the crap out of Duo, combined with taking a few hits himself and that harsh kiss, had done more for his libido than any other stimulus in the last nineteen years of his life.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the Japanese agent scowled. He didn't need these kinds of distractions. But even Duo's background presence seemed to have a subtle effect on him. He was starting to question his own meticulously built self-control. He had a brief thought of grabbing the other pilot, slamming him down against the nearest horizontal, weight-bearing surface, and kissing him senseless, but Heero knew as much about kissing as he did basket weaving.

Maybe Solo was right. Maybe Duo really needed someone with experience. He recalled his best friend's rage-filled ranting from the previous day and he was almost positive that the braided agent had admitted to being in love with Heero's brother. Perhaps the best course of action here was to bow out gracefully and accept that he wasn't cut out for personal relationships. Heero couldn't just turn off the switch in his brain that made him a soldier. For the first time in his life, though, he wished to the gods that he could.

.

Duo frowned and stretched back on the cot in the back room. He was tired, emotionally weary and physically drained. He crossed his booted legs and let an arm dangle freely over the edge of the cot. His chest hurt when he breathed and he couldn't sit up without using his arms to prop him up. He was pretty sure Heero had fractured a rib when he punched him in the chest. No matter, he supposed he deserved it. He has gotten hysterical, and had let himself slip out of control. He couldn't even remember the last time that had happened.

He had kissed Heero. He knew why he had done it, even though he hadn't planned on doing it. He wanted to know if it would be the same. Would kissing the Wing pilot feel the same way it had been so many years ago, with Solo?

It hadn't. The thing with Solo had been an innocent exchange between kids. He had been different then: naive, stupid and impulsive. He had loved Solo, but only in the way a kid loves a big brother or a mentor. Never before had Solo been Duo's equal. He had been the leader, the guardian, and the teacher.

It was different with Heero. He knew that the moment their lips met. It wasn't like Duo had imagined, with sparkles and magical flowering petals. It wasn't like when he had kissed Hilde on her birthday, or when he made out with that guy at that bar a year and a half ago. It was dark, and painful. Heero was his colleague, his equal. He could feel Heero's apprehension, confusion, hurt, and pain through their exchange. He didn't know how to describe it other than that he felt himself.

At Heero's question Duo took a shallow breath, winced, and said in an even tone, "The Sweepers operate under contractor laws, which means they can travel through space and atmosphere with only the supervision of the ESUN. I think we should hack the traffic tower mainframe to get data on their network patterns. Then we can find out where they are centrally located."

He had worked for a long time with the Sweepers, and still had a few ties from the old days. Howard, unfortunately, wasn't one of them. The former Gundam mechanic had passed on only a few months before. He had been unable to go to the funeral due to ESUN restriction.

He didn't feel like mentioning this, though. Instead he said, "I'll ask around and see if I can get some insider info on the faces we are looking for."

He paused and then began to toy with the frayed tip of his braid. He stared up at the ceiling, envisioning Solo and Heero in his mind. He hadn't seen Solo since the event with Heero, and even then it was only for a few minutes, in the beam of his gun's spotlight.

Duo was still angry, but he knew his anger had to wait. It would be hard with Wufei on the way.

.

Heero nodded, but he was positive the American pilot wasn't looking at him. He needed a task, something to set his mind to in order to block out the sexual tension in the room. Or perhaps he was just imagining it? Heero scowled at the glowing computer screen in front of him.

Then he made up his mind and his hands flew across the keys the way they handled Wing's controls, all determination and skill. He pulled up Preventers' mainframe and keyed in his access codes to gain clearance to L2's space traffic records, manifests, and data logs. Une would almost certainly know where her two MIA HCAs were now, but with Chang inbound it didn't really matter anymore. He instructed the Preventers mainframe to pull any data entry that contained Sweepers identification codes. Heero brought up a secondary screen to his left, networked it to the main terminal upon which he was working, and programmed a quick binary search algorithm to pull any piece of data in the Preventers mainframe search that included a gross weight discrepancy anywhere between its starting location and final destination. It was a hunch, but the Barton Foundation had used the exact same tactic to ship mobile suit parts amongst other innocuous cargo before the Eve Wars; Heero didn't doubt that it would work again.

After several minutes of cross-referencing data, the Preventers mainframe had pulled over two thousand search results in the past six months alone. Seconds later, his binary search had narrowed those results down to just over fifty shipping manifests with conflicting weigh-ins during transit. Blue eyes scanned the screen intently before instructing the algorithm to group the results by end destination. Ninety-two percent of the anomalous manifests had ended up at one specific resource satellite in the L3 Colony Cluster, a small and relatively new outpost maintained by a small-tome salvaging operation that worked in conjunction with the Sweepers. Satellite MO-49573. Bingo.

They might not know exactly who was behind this military buildup endeavor, but now they knew where. Heero was certain that destroying the suits and manufacturing plant itself would not completely kill the fires of rebellion amongst this anonymous group of revolutionaries, but with the Gundams long since destroyed and ESUN's clear policy of disallowing the development of mobile suit technology, it was a key step in fighting this rebellion. They had to destroy these suits before they became operational. "Duo," the Japanese agent called over his shoulder, already calculating flight times in his head, "Come look at this."

.

Duo groaned as he pushed himself up off of the cot, eased himself to a stand, and walked carefully over to where Heero was sitting. He leaned over the Japanese pilot's shoulder but then immediately regretted it. With a silent flinch he braced himself on the back of the chair, and then began to read the data Heero had collected.

This wasn't good. All of the data indicated that there was indeed a large shipment of something substantial to the L3 sector. He frowned and reached up to brush his own chestnut bangs from his eyes, his fingertip slightly grazing the now yellow-green bruise that had begun to tint his lower jaw.

"I don't like this. If they do have mobile suits, and have been able to build them without the ESUN sniffin' them out, then their organization must be pretty powerful and extensive..." His mind began to race with the possibilities. "Hopefully they have old, throw-away suits, and not some secret fucking weapon like Epyon models. Otherwise, we're screwed. It is gonna be like taking a knife to a mecha fight."

Duo hated not having his mobile suit. He felt capable without it, but still weak and vulnerable. Whenever they were faced with a potential confrontation with mech he always felt angry and bitter that the Preventers were expected to neutralize threat with only a 9mm sidearm and global ethical practices.

Duo glanced down at the other pilot and studied him. Heero was always at a computer, clicking away, working. It was as if the other pilot only felt comfortable when he was busy. He couldn't just relax, or have fun. He wondered what Heero did for fun.

"How is your leg?" He asked conversationally, knowing Heero probably wouldn't elaborate. He felt surprisingly at ease with Yuy, despite the punch and kiss fest they had earlier. It was a good thing they both had enough sanity to stop before the fight escalated to the point or serious injury, or worse.

Duo knew they were fucked up. How could they possibly be normal?

He leaned in closer over the chair, despite the ache in his lungs, and reached out to touch the slightly red blur on the pilot's cheek where he had slapped him.

"I know you don't wanna talk about it, but isn't that what Fred keeps trying to tell us to do?" He practically squirmed in discomfort. He never told people what he really thought. Most of the time he was the epitome of happy-go-lucky. Heero was the only person, aside from Solo and Hilde, whom he could be himself around. He didn't feel like he had to hide behind his happy face or loud voice. He supposed that meant if he could talk to anyone it had to be Heero.

"I'm sorry for hitting you. I was wrong." That was hard to say. "Sometimes I kind of lose myself. That head doctor thinks I never developed emotionally past a child's level of coping." His voice took on dark tone. "Ain't that some shit... But maybe he is right."

He looked down at the Japanese pilot and sighed. This was irrelevant. Heero was trying to work, and here he was being an emotional pussy about the shit. "Anyway, sorry. About the other thing too. I just thought..." He thought Heero would like it.

.

"I'm operating within acceptable parameters," Heero replied automatically to the inquiry about his leg wound. He was focusing a bit intently on the technical specs of the cargo shuttles he'd found. When Duo touched his cheek he froze automatically. How was he supposed to concentrate with the braided pilot so damned close...

The mention of Dr. Wolfstadt was enough to thin Heero's lips into a hard line. He was beyond caring what that bastard of a head shrink thought about either his or his partner's emotional states. Heero knew damned well what went on in his own mind, and he also knew that no amount of third-party tampering was liable to 'fix' what was wrong with him. He was a child soldier. All five of them had been. Post-traumatic stress disorder and repressed childhood memories didn't begin to explain their behaviors away, and moreover Heero had lost any interest he may have had in letting someone psychoanalyze him.

Acknowledging the American's apology for hitting him with a noncommittal grunt, Heero forced himself to relax back into his chair and continue typing, bringing up several detailed ship manifests to more closely inspect the cargo in which these rebels were smuggling suit parts. He was listening to his friend with half of his attention until he heard, _"Anyway, sorry. About the other thing too. I just thought..."_

Heero reached up and behind him when he sensed Duo moving away and caught the other man around the wrist. Without looking away from the screen, Wing's pilot tugged his partner forward until Duo's chest was flush with the back of his chair, without the sheer force he'd used against him the day before. "Don't apologize if you don't mean it," he said quietly, and then he released Duo's arm and brought his now-free hand back to the keyboard. Duo hadn't kissed him on accident, and it hadn't been a slip in the other agent's judgment. He had meant to do it, and Heero wasn't the least bit upset about that. He'd had no idea what to do in the aftermath, but he certainly didn't begrudge his friend's actions.

"The likelihood that this group is using defective or discarded suits is low. I'd guess twenty-second percentile. They may have obtained schematics from former OZ or Alliance personnel. Considering that the Gundams' destruction was made public knowledge, this group would also no longer require the use of Gundanium alloy to construct new suits; the materials used in all of OZ's suits would be superior enough to stand up to anything in Preventers' current arsenal." Heero chewed his lower lip. This entire scenario did not bode well for them. "Assuming that they have entirely new suit designs and specs, we are at the obvious disadvantage of not knowing how to pilot them, which means that we can't obtain one of them as a counteroffensive weapon."

They wouldn't know anything for certain until they got to that damned satellite. Heero let his head fall against the chair's back and looked up at his partner. "We can't begin reconnaissance until we consult with Chang on this. We also have to wait to meet with Solo, and he won't be back for another day."

.

Duo flinched as he was pulled toward the chair, and stared down at the messy top of Heero's head. When the pilot looked up at him he turned away, avoiding eye contact by studying the flickering overhead halogen lights of the scrapyard's office.

Solo. Duo had tried not to think about him. He really had no desire to see him. Part of him wanted to ignore the fact that the man was alive. He had come to terms that the idea that he was dead, and now he was alive with a slew of complications attached. Great. Some homecoming that was.

He stepped away from the chair and over to a nearby table and began fiddling with a hard drive that had been set there some time ago, piled in a cluster of pieces.

Time to forget it. Time to forget all of it.

His mind automatically repressed the fight and began to churn with work. "So Chang is gonna be here? That guy hates me. I can't say he is my favorite guy, either. What a stiff. Seriously, that guy is more straightedge and unyielding than you are. I don't like that you called him. He can't help us, he is just gonna blab off the rules and regulations at us, yell at me in Ching-Chong, then tell Une everything she wants to know like the 'good boy' he is."

He pulled on a piece of plastic on the tiny drive in his hands. It snapped. He tossed the piece over his shoulder. It landed somewhere behind a filing cabinet.

"I don't entirely trust Solo, either. The guy isn't right. What is to say we aren't falling into another trap? The shit at the safehouse was pretty convincing."

.

Heero frowned as his partner walked away and began breaking and throwing bits of plastic around the office. While Duo's temper was as notorious as Heero's work obsession, Wing's pilot had the feeling that this particular foul mood wasn't going away any time soon. He opened his mouth to explain exactly why he'd called in the Chinese pilot when the front door to the scrapyard's office was kicked in none-too-gently and a very angry looking Chang Wufei marched into the room. Heero didn't even have the sense to look startled. The other Asian man stormed across the room, grabbed Heero by the front of his tee shirt, and shook him. "You had better have a damned good explanation for disappearing off of a gods-forsaken planet and going MIA for nearly a week!" he roared.

Calmly, Heero reached up, loosened Chang's fingers from around the fistful of his shirt, and met the man's challenging glare. He didn't step back. That would have been admitting some sort of wrongdoing, and Heero felt ninety-eight percent justified in his actions. "Une never would have let us investigate the leads Jackson gave us without a slew of Preventers agents following us, none of which are qualified for the sort of scenario in which we're currently engaged. She would have needlessly risked agents' lives and compromised a very serious situation," he explained in the flattest tone he could.

Chang stared hard at him for a long minute, gauging Heero's words and body language critically before stepping back slightly and nodding. Heero had passed whatever test he'd been given. Great. Now they had a mission to discuss. "What is the situation?" Chang asked, his voice much more calm than before. Heero looked past the man's shoulder and pointedly to the four other agents standing just inside of the scrapyard's door. With an irritated twitch of one eye, Chang ordered them out of the building.

It took several minutes, but Heero managed a brief and concise explanation of everything that he and Duo had discovered since their initial arrival on L2, including the situation with Solo. Heero, in one of his more tactful displays of discretion, omitted any mention of he and Duo's personal issues. Once he'd gotten through every shred of information he deemed pertinent to tell Chang, the Japanese agent glanced over at his partner and added, "My confidence in the veracity of Solo's information is around eighty-two percent. If he's lying, and this is a trap, then it's a damned well-planned one."

Chang nodded, obviously deep in thought. "I need copies of all of those files. I also want to know why you finally deemed it necessary to contact me. You know that I have to report this entire conversation to the Colonel."

Heero snorted. "Acknowledged. We need access to Preventers resources: shuttles, weapons, and surveillance equipment come to mind. We also may need backup if this situation gets any more out of hand." He paused, resisting the urge to chew his lip in front of Chang before adding. "I also want complete immunity for Solo until the end of this mission. If he's infiltrated this group as deeply as he says then he's an invaluable asset." And Heero waited for Duo to 'lose his shit'.

.

"Fucking great," Duo murmured as Wufei stormed into the office. He was the last person Duo had ever imagined would be standing in his establishment and on his trashy colony. Duo felt his annoyance pique as he watched Chang manhandle Heero. He twitched and broke off a rather large chunk of plastic in his hands to distract himself.

Once Chang was finished giving his demands Duo dropped the drive on the table. Instantly he buried his annoyance and instead replaced it with determination. Time to play his favorite game to make himself feel better.

He traipsed up to Chang and grinned. "Waffles. Long time no see."

He delighted in the irritated scowl the Chinese pilot gave at Duo's little pet name. He topped the greeting off with a sly wink, and a stereotypical two-finger peace salute. "Sorry about stealing your dope ass ship. Nice ride. I think I may have scuffed the hull a bit going through that asteroid belt. Fast though. You think you can hook us up with one of those things?"

.

It was all Heero could do to keep from laughing outright at Duo's antics. Two weeks ago he would have smacked the braided agent across the back of his head for provoking Chang, but right now it seemed unbelievably amusing. Maybe he was just glad to see his partner back to his usual behaviors. Regardless, his smirk was pronounced enough that when Chang turned back to him, an obvious attempt at ignoring Duo, Heero had to straighten his expression quickly.

"Pity that a fine soldier like you got saddled with Maxwell," Chang drawled. He was fishing for a reaction. Heero prayed silently to every major deity he'd ever read about that Duo wouldn't take the bait. "I can get you a decent space cruiser, but getting anywhere near that satellite in something as obviously advanced as my 'dope ass ship'," he turned to glare daggers at Duo, "Would only blow your cover. Any wet behind the ears agent could tell you that," he added with a condescending smirk.

"You have whatever resources you require at your disposal. I'll see to that personally. But I want regular reports from you," he said calmly, more to Heero than his partner. "And try to keep Maxwell under control. He has a fondness for unnecessary pyrotechnics."

Heero scowled at that last jab. Whose partner did Chang think Duo was? The Chinese agent was already walking towards the door when Heero addressed him, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't appreciate you underestimating our combined abilities," Heero said. So he was a little protective of his partner. That was completely normal. Right?

Chang stopped near the door and sneered back at him. "I believe myself to be completely justified in questioning Maxwell's abilities when he failed to shoot a suspect to save your ass," he spat. "If I were you, I'd be on the nearest vidphone to Headquarters, requesting a competent partner."

.

Duo grinned. He hardly cared what Wufei thought of him at that moment, and he was already aware that Chang thought he was lower than a piece of shit. Duo was surprised that Heero had stood up for him. If Wufei had been some guy at a bar goading him on, Duo would have kicked the living shit out of him. However, kicking Wufei's ass now would only get him thrown into the brig.

Duo let his smile grow wide and playful. "Yeah, you know me. The dumbass who always gets caught. He's right, Heero. You do need a new partner. How about a woman? That working out for ya, guy? Also, I figured you would understand Zzzhhang, considering you had that same problem killing someone when it counted. Fuck, what was that fruit's name again? Treize? Yeah, that's the one."

Duo crossed his arms challengingly across his chest and smirked. "Thanks again for stopping by. Good luck with all that paperwork."

.

The reference to Kushrenada had been a little below the belt, but there was something unbelievably captivating about watching Duo's quick, scathing wit in action against someone besides Heero. Still, he wasn't terribly pleased with his partner's words.

Chang's face had turned a creative shade of red before he'd stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. It was a futile effort, really; the damned thing was hanging on by one rusted hinge. Heero counted to ten before throwing himself down into his chair and slamming his fist into the keyboard. He heard the cracking of plastic under his hand, watched sparks jump wildly from the circuitry underneath.

"I don't want another partner," he growled at Duo. "I want to blow this resource satellite into bits and go the fuck home." Heero wasn't certain exactly when he'd begun to think of Brussels as 'home,' least of all the Preventers barracks, but he did.

.

Duo had kept his defiant smile on until Wufei stomped like a defeated school bully put of the shop. When Heero crushed the keyboard Duo jumped and turned to stare at him for a long moment before smiling again.

"Hey! Fuck! Don't go wrecking the joint!" He reached past Yuy to snatch the broken keyboard from the table. He tossed it in a large, black waste bin before digging in a nearby pile of parts to retrieve another one. He connected it quietly, muttering just loud enough for Yuy to hear, " sheesh, gonna have nothing left if you keep punching shit."

He smiled down at Heero from his spot beside the chair. He was feeling better. Fighting Wufei was just what he needed to cheer him up. "You ever meet someone who just pisses you off every time you see 'em? Woofers is mine."

He leaned back against the edge of the computer table before hopping up to sit next to the keyboard he had placed there a minute before. He set his foot rest against the rollers of the chair.

"Don't worry about it. Fei is just jealous of our stellar friendship, and at how well we get along." He thought on that for a second and absently touched the bruise on his face. "Well, most of the time."

He laughed at the irony in that and looked down at Yuy with a sigh. "Dude can't take a joke. He really needs to get laid. Guess Sally just isn't as good as Treize, ne?" Oh Duo's stupid thoughts. He laughed again and reached up to fuss with his shortened braid. He looked down at it and sighed. "Guess you won't be using this against me anytime soon," he teased.

.

Heero winced in sympathy at the bruise on Duo's jaw, and the sarcasm laced through his partner's voice. Then he frowned as the American decided that his desk was an acceptable seat. Heero found himself in the precarious position of being nearly between Duo's thighs, and at the mention of the words 'really needs to get laid' he suppressed a tortured groan. This hot-cold crap with his best friend really had to stop. Heero's libido, if graphed over the last week, was beginning to resemble a mildly erratic cosine function, and he was rapidly approaching that local maximum event horizon where his self-control would exceed his limits and he would consider himself no longer responsible for his own actions.

When Deathscythe's pilot made some teasing reference about his braid, Heero's mutinous mind supplied him nearly a dozen ways to use that length of hair against his partner. All of them were sexual. The Japanese agent growled in frustration and grabbed Duo roughly by his narrow hips, pulling him to the very edge of the desk and practically into Heero's lap. One hand buried itself in the base of Duo's braid, pulling his head down, and Heero crushed their lips together with bruising force.

Fuck regulations, mission parameters, and discretion. If Heero had any common sense left at all after multiple concussions and head trauma he probably wouldn't have fallen for Duo Maxwell.

.

Duo found himself face-first in Wing pilot before he knew what hit him. He was glad of it. He had been worried that his kiss with Yuy earlier had somehow changed Heero's mind about liking him. Duo had been thinking that he would like to try that again, but not if it meant another punch on the face.

So when Heero pulled him over and sealed the deal, Duo was more than happy to comply. He let his arms lift to either side of the Japanese pilot's head where he found a home for his fingers entangled in Heero's thick, silky hair. Their connection by mouth was rough, seeping with frustration and repressed sexual desire. It had been a while for Duo. He wasn't sure about Heero, but from his eagerness Duo could only assume the same thing applied.

He quietly moaned into Heero's mouth and returned the kiss with practiced ease. He slipped off of the desk and sunk down to the ground, landing on his knees between Heero's thighs. He dropped his hands slowly, tracing the firm muscle lines of the other pilot's neck and shoulders, touching the other pilot in all of the nooks and curves he wouldn't have dared to touch before.

.

Heero had no idea what to do once he'd initiated this intimate contact with his partner, but he certainly felt better for having done it. He'd never been a fan of people touching him; for Duo he was willing to make any exceptions possible, so long as the other agent kept his fingers threaded through Heero's hair and continued producing those intoxicating noises.

When Duo slipped from the desk and landed between the Wing pilot's thighs Heero was almost certain his heart stuttered a beat. Something primal in him snapped and he shoved away from both the chair and the other agent, and cleared everything from the desk in one violent swipe of his arm. He had Duo flat on his back on the desktop in seconds, leaning over him and kissing him for all he was worth. Technique and timing didn't matter to him in the slightest. All he cared about at that exact moment in time was the contact-however he could get it.

Hands tugged Duo's shirt away from the waist of his pants, shoved underneath and ran the firm planes of his stomach and chest; he pushed the material up to the other agent's armpits. His skin was warm, scarred in certain places, but Heero didn't mind at all. He was grinding a rather impressive erection into his partner's left thigh and fumbling with Duo's belt when someone cleared their throat very loudly directly behind them. Heero froze, fingers clenched around the American pilot's fly.

"Guess I should have knocked first. Sorry, bro." The familiar chuckle in that voice made the Japanese agent want to murder orphans in cold blood.

Heero groaned in frustration, resting his forehead against Duo's bare stomach. Of course Solo would show up twenty-six hours earlier than anticipated and ruin the first real sexual encounter of his younger brother's life.

.

Duo had waited for Solo to come back for years after he had supposedly died. For hours he had waited at the hiding spot on the roof of the strip bar, waiting for Solo to climb the gutters and sit with him, like he had before.

When the guy had interrupted the hottest thing Duo had ever could have imagined Heero Yuy doing to him the American felt his control completely shatter. His face grew hot and his hands, which had previously been stroking Heero's chest and teasing nipples, had suddenly shot to the back waistband of the Japanese pilot's ripped jeans. Fingers clutched angrily around the grip, and within a moment Duo's arm that had snaked around the other pilot had lifted to aim right for Solo's head. He hadn't said a damn thing. A silent Duo was a dangerous one.

.

Heero felt his partner's hand slide around his waist. He registered a split-second too late what that hand was after. He felt the braided pilot tug his sidearm free of his waistband, and as Duo aimed it at Solo with lethal accuracy Heero cursed and grabbed the American agent's wrist, shoving the gun's aim away from Solo and towards the ceiling. Solo had dove for cover behind a nearby desk and was staring at Duo as if the man had announced his candidacy for queen of the moon. Heero leaned over his partner, pinning the hand with his gun clutched in it to the metal desktop, pleading silently for Duo to relinquish the weapon.

There were obviously some hostile feelings between Duo and Solo, at least from the Deathscythe pilot's end of things. Heero could handle that. What he could not deal with was his best friend shooting his brother. This whole scene was like some horribly-written stage play. Heero leaned down until his lips were brushing Duo's ear and spoke quietly to the other agent, even as the American glared hatefully at Solo from across the room. "Stand down, oh-two. Drop the gun. You can't shoot him."

Heero wasn't sure if he was getting through to his partner, but he could tell from the startled and slightly apprehensive look on Solo's face that the man hadn't expected to walk in on this particular tableau, or Duo's homicidal reaction to his presence. In Solo's defense, Heero could imagine the scene they made, him sandwiched between Duo's thighs with the other man's pants undone and riding low on his slender hips. As for the gun...

Having been on the business end of a gun in Duo's possession on more than one occasion, Heero knew how daunting it could be to stare down the barrel and know with absolute certainty that the darker side of his partner's humanity had absolutely no qualms or moral reservations with shooting you dead right where you stood. Now that Solo too had shared in that charming experience, he hoped fervently that the man would gather his wits about him and leave while Heero still had some leverage on Duo's gun hand. His luck over the past several days told him that that would almost certainly not happen.

.

Solo knew that Duo had been a little stunned at their last encounter, but he definitely hadn't thought the kid would shoot him. He was perfectly aware that the only thing stopping the braided orphan from pulling the trigger on him was his partner pinning his skinny ass to that desk. What kind of welcome was that? Did Heero not explain the situation to his friend yet?

"Yo," he shouted from behind the relative safety of another desk across the room, "What the hell, Duo? We're supposed to be on the same team, here!"

The chilling glare that Heero sent him told him to shut the fuck up while he still had his head intact. Apparently Duo was more than a little angry with him. Fine. He had pretty much lied to the kid, but how the hell was he supposed to tell his childhood companion that he had survived L2 when Duo was in space fighting OZ? After the wars, Deathscythe's pilot had all but disappeared until Preventers picked him up, and Solo had been so busy with the Sweepers after Howard's death...

This wasn't going to get them anywhere. Solo got out from behind the desk, against his better judgment, and ignored the piercing stare that Heero leveled at him. He might have been a few inches taller and outweighed Wing's pilot by twenty or so pounds, but his younger brother's expression could melt steel when he put his mind to it. Fortunately they'd received almost identical training, but he was beginning to think that Heero's intensity was all innate personality and not some military defense tactic. The kid was just prickly.

Solo stopped once he was within arm's reach of Duo, and the rage in the agent's eyes was palpable. "Cut the shit," Solo murmured. He had been more than a little disturbed at the scene he'd walked in on, but he chalked that up to combat stress. All soldiers needed an outlet. Duo had found one in his partner. Solo was convinced that he could still correct that blunder. He hadn't gotten a really good look at Duo in person during their last meeting-that was sort of difficult to do with a gun light shining in your eyes-but now he was surveying the braided pilot with a steadily-increasing appreciation. The kid had grown, lost the baby fat in his face and stomach, filled out in the shoulders, and fuck was he handsome. No wonder 'Ro was so possessive of the guy.

Knowing that it might get him decked by either Preventer he reached down and brushed Duo's bangs from his face, studying his odd violet eyes. Those had hardened, too. They didn't retain that youthful innocence he remembered at all. "If you can lose the gun and put your dick away I've got some intel on those mobile suits," he said distractedly, eyes wandering down Duo's firm abdomen and due south. He would much have preferred Duo's pants stay where they were, open and slung low around his bony hips, but Heero probably wasn't into sharing. Solo felt a grin tug at the corner of his lips. If he played his cards right, the 'Perfect Soldier Version Two' wouldn't be an obstacle soon. Solo had known the braided menace longer, after all, and he knew the kid still had feelings for him. Thin line between love and hate.

.

Duo's eyebrow involuntarily twitched as Solo had touched his hair. He wanted so much to be friends with the guy. He wanted things to go back like they used to be when they were kids, but the thought of the ghost holding a gun up to Heero's head couldn't be shaken that easily.

Duo trusted hardly anyone. He liked Father Maxwell enough, and Sister Helen was pretty nice too, but he never fully trusted them. That happened when you lived on the streets. You couldn't trust anyone or anything to help you but yourself. He had only one trust in his early years, and that was his trust in his friend Solo. When Solo had died, Duo thought he wouldn't be able to find anyone to replace that person in his life. At least, until Heero came along. The Wing pilot was the most trustworthy person Duo had ever met. When Heero said he was going to do something, he did it. When the Wing pilot had a mission, he carried it out no matter what. Heero may have tricked him in the past, but he never lied to him.

Even with the Solo thing, Heero had only kept the information from him, he never lied about it. Duo had to give the guy credit, he was infallible in that department.

Solo, however, had completely squashed his trust with his actions. Holding a gun up to his partner's head was just like saying, 'howdy gonna kill your friend'. Solo hadn't told Duo he was still alive, and then he shows up to kill his friend. It wasn't something the braided pilot could forget so easily.

He cut Solo a cold look before speaking plainly, his face taking on a devil-may-care expression. "Sure, we would love that intel," he said quickly. He released the gun, letting Heero take possession of it once more. He stared up at the Japanese pilot, smiled, and then said coyly. "Rude ass fucker, showing up unannounced." He let his hand, which was now free of Heero and the gun, grab the back of Heero's neck. He dragged the other pilot down against him and hungrily kissed his mouth, not giving a damn if Solo was standing within such a close proximity. He greedily delved his tongue into the other pilot's mouth for a moment, licked Heero's lower lip playfully and then sat up, forcing the other pilot to ease off of him.

"We'll finish this later," he murmured to Yuy, but made sure Solo could hear as well. Once he had his feet on the ground again he let his shirt fall down over his stomach, but made no movement to fix his pants. He knew the look Solo was giving him. Duo was very familiar with it. He was pissed off, and if he wasn't allowed to shoot the fucker in the forehead, then damn it he was going to use every opportunity to show Solo just what he had been missing all these years.

"Since Heero fucked up the table here, you can use one of those laptops over there." He pointed to a stack of relatively new laptop terminals stacked on a table nearby. "I want a fucking coffee. Either of you want one?" He wandered off into the back room without waiting for an answer.

.

Heero Yuy was a lot of things: quiet, obstinate, focused, dangerous. He was not, however, obliviously stupid. Despite how welcomed his partner's aggressive affection was, he knew damned well that Duo was only using it to blatantly get to Solo. That hurt far more than it should have. He backed off once the braided pilot relinquished his weapon and took notice of the fact that the man stalked right past Solo with his belt hanging loose from his pants and his fly still down. What the hell was Duo playing at?

Frowning, Heero turned away from the doorway through which his friend had disappeared and met Solo's identical cobalt eyes across the office. There was a challenge there, along with the older man's amused smirk. Heero thought about what his brother had said to him at their last encounter, that he would never understand Duo the way that his childhood friend did, and he let his gaze drop to the floor submissively. There was obviously a far more profound connection between his partner and his brother than he had guessed, and the Japanese agent wasn't sure how to handle that.

Solo went to the indicated laptop terminals and began typing away as if he hadn't just walked in on what would have progressed to rough gay sex. Heero sat down on the desktop that his partner had so recently vacated and stared at the cheap linoleum flooring. Why hadn't he allowed common sense and training to decide his actions? All logic failed him when it came to those violet eyes and infectious laugh. Heero wanted out. He had a vague idea of where this whole fucked up situation was going and he knew damned well that he wasn't equipped to handle it.

Solo could have him. Heero would back down. Destroying these suits and arresting their manufacturers was vital to the stability of ESUN and peace between Earth and the colonies. His frighteningly strong feelings for Duo wouldn't prevent or end a war. That didn't stop the pang in his chest, though, but it was always safer to throw himself into missions and work and completely ignore his partner's advances. Let Solo deal with it. The man was obviously confident enough in his abilities to take on Deathscythe's pilot, and if Duo's actions only moments before were any indication then he was simply using Heero to get to his was-dead friend. Wing's pilot had been used by J, the colonies, the Barton Foundation, and Preventers enough to recognize when someone had decided that he made an excellent pawn. Heero didn't want to play anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN  
>[DAY 10] Outer Orbital Ring, Lagrange Point 3<p>

Duo hated the idea. He wanted nothing to do with it.

"There is no way in hell. You can't fucking ask me to do that. That's like asking me to cut off my own cock. No. No. NO!" Duo backed away quickly, using the weightlessness of space to tumble backward through the air to land against the command deck's closed alloy hatch. "Don't come near me. Seriously, there has to be another way. A wig or something? How about a hat?"

He didn't want to do it. It had been an unexpected request from the other agents for him to cut off his braid. Duo knew it would make sneaking into the Sweeper compound on L3 easier and less risky for the three of them, but he wanted no part in it. His poor, mutilated braid had seen enough hardship since their departure from Mars, and now they were suggesting that he chop off what little was left.

He glared at Solo and Heero angrily with blue-green eyes, his new contacts stinging his corneas. He desperately tried to think of another way.

He knew this was probably Solo's idea. He was almost certain of it. Heero would have never asked him to do something like this. He had caught himself stroking and worshiping the long companion coil of hair in front of Heero more times than he could count. He wanted to punch the guy in the face, and maybe stomp on his gut. Solo was getting on his nerves. The way the guy was always watching him made Duo uneasy. He still didn't trust him, even despite Colonel Une's admission of him into the Preventer Organization. Now "Solo Yuy" was one of them, by decree, but Duo didn't feel any desire to work with him. He wished it were just he and Heero again, running through the shadows as partners, completing this mission alone. Solo brought an uncomfortable dynamic to their group. He knew they needed the man to get into the Sweeper faction undetected, but that didn't mean Duo had to like it.

"Look," he said calmly, surprising even himself. "I really don't feel comfortable doing this." He reached up to the neck of his black flight suit, which was unzipped down to the center of his chest, and protectively grabbed what was left of his former braid.

.

Heero wasn't terribly comfortable with the idea of hacking off his partner's hair with one of the man's butterfly knives, either, but they had to get into and out of that damned resource satellite without being identified as Preventers agents. Solo had his 'in'-he was a Sweeper, and the resistance group thought that he was a supporter of theirs. Heero was as anonymous as a man could get; his files were sealed as tightly as possible, despite Solo's fine hacking abilities. Duo, on the other hand...

"It's the first thing about you that people will recognize and remember," he said evenly.

Solo shifted beside him, nodding to himself. "Yeah, kiddo. You became the poster child for the Gundam pilots when OZ dragged you onto the news."

"And your enlistment into Preventers is public knowledge. ESUN made sure to advertise that fact to allay the public's concerns about our whereabouts," Heero added.

Duo looked ready to bolt, and the Japanese pilot was certainly not thrilled about the idea of backing him into a corner of the already-cramped shuttle. They had a little over three hours before they got anywhere near the L3 colony Cluster, and with the navigational instrumentation on autopilot, it was now or never. The risk of Duo being recognized was around seventy-eight percent, and well outside of acceptable parameters, in Heero's opinion.

Brandishing the knife with a crooked smile, Solo moved a bit closer to the cornered American. "C'mon, Duo. It'll take five minutes." Heero wasn't terribly pleased with the almost-leer that his brother was giving his partner. The possessive side of his mind flared briefly before he crushed it back down. Solo could do what he wanted. Heero's duty was to complete this mission and bring them all back whole and intact.

.

"Wait! Fucking hell, just wait! Shit..." Duo slid across the wall to the corner and backed himself against it, pinning what was left of his braid between the wall and his now trembling body. "You jerk, get the fuck away from me!" He screamed in anger and pointed at Solo. "Don't you even think about it, you creeper! You're not laying a hand on me."

He looked over at his partner, thinking maybe he could appeal to his friend. "Please, 'Ro. I can sneak on the colony, I don't need to do this in plain sight." His eyes were red-tinged from the irritation the contacts were giving him. Duo had never needed glasses, or put anything in his eyes in his life. He was uncomfortable and thoroughly pissed off. His reddened eyes shot up to Solo, where he snarled and narrowed his eyes hatefully.

"Get the fuck away from me!" He was losing it. His braid was the only thing he had left. He had lost a bit of it only a few days before, but it was still there and still carried the weight of his childhood and the massacre that he had endured. It was a part of him, just like Heero's bedhead was a part of the Japanese pilot, or Quatre's girly voice was a part of the Arab boy.

Parting with it, even for the mission, was a difficult idea to stomach. Speaking of stomachs, Duo's anxiety level was through the roof. He thought he was going to be sick. He balled up his fists and felt his body tensing, prepared for a fight.

.

Heero shot out one arm to stop Solo's advance, giving him a pointed look, and was mildly impressed when his brother took the hint and moved back. Wing's pilot took the knife from him and sighed. "I know it's important to you, but so is this mission," he said carefully. He was almost positive that one of them was about to be on the receiving end of Duo's very capable fists; the other agent's tensed posture was evidence enough of that.

Approaching the American cautiously wasn't as difficult as he had initially anticipated. While their few previous encounters had been intense, rough, and lust-fueled, this was definitely not one of those situations. Heero moved closer, hands visible, attempting to be as non-threatening as a former terrorist could be, and reached out to press the knife into one of Duo's clenched fists. He touched his partner's other balled up hand gently, with the same light finesse that Wing's delicate circuitry had required. "I'm not going to force you, but it's the best way to achieve our goals."

This close to the other pilot, the urge to close the distance between them and kiss the man was strong, stronger than the 'danger' instinct pinging in Heero's brain like a fire alarm. There was his common sense jumping ship in the face of his emotions, again. Heero sighed, and it damned near killed his pride to add, "Please?"

.

Duo had been staring intently at Solo until Heero touched him. His now very pink and blue eyes swiveled to Heero, who was only a few inches away from him.

God, he was handsome. Especially when he was being all nice. Duo began to forget about the other Yuy in the room and simply eyed Heero in shock. When the Japanese pilot said 'please' he nearly balked.

Some things were more important to Duo than missions. His memento of hair was one of them, but some things meant more than even that. Heero asking nicely was the thing.

"I..." he didn't know what to say. His fingers clenched the handle of the knife tightly, and his wrist moved with a slight amount of hesitation. Moments ago he had been like a feral cat, prepared to strike out in violence if anyone dared to touch him. Heero's calm demeanor had managed to soothe and calm him.

He shot Solo a glare, sucked in a breath, and reached behind his own head to slide the sharp edge of the knife against the rope of hair there.

He was scared. He didn't know why, and he would never admit it, but he was scared of the change that was inevitably about to happen. With a tug of his hand and a slice of the knife it was done. He felt a weight leave the base of his neck as the chunk of braided hair fell loose and floated behind him.

His eyes stung and he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He closed his eyes for a moment and cringed, images of Sister Helen braiding his hair, of the other orphan's playfully tugging it, and of Heero roughly grabbing hold of it...

His hair settled strangely around his face, and tickled the back of his neck. He didn't like it, but he didn't have a choice. Years of growing and maintaining, brushing, braiding... protecting... it was gone.

Duo frowned and opened his eyes, avoided eye contact with either of them, and pushed his way past them to the front of the ship, pocketing the knife he had slain his hair with. He didn't bother taking up the remainder of it. He didn't even turn around to look at it.

He made his way to the command front and pulled himself into the co-pilot's chair. Solo had insisted on piloting the ship in. There really wasn't much for him to do now. He tugged the harnesses over his shoulders, clicked them secure, and then began inventorying the hidden lock picks he had stowed away in the false sole of his shoe.

.

Heero felt his gut clench when Duo roughly sawed through his own braid. When he forced his way to the co-pilot's seat and buckled his harness, Wing's pilot was certain that his friend was not operating at acceptable mental capacity. Duo never buckled his harness. With an irritated glance at Solo, Heero snatched the rest of Duo's braid from where it hovered in the corner; without the ship's artificial gravity boosters engaged, the meticulously cared-for coil of chestnut brown hung like a dead snake near the bulkhead. He removed the elastic tie from its end and placed the long rope carefully away in a nearby storage compartment.

Oddly, he wondered if they should bury it. It seemed like an extension of his partner. He shook off that thought and warned Solo with a quick glare to remain as far away from Deathscythe's pilot as possible, then moved to the back of Duo's chair. Without gloves, Heero's fingers slid gently through his friend's much shorter hair unhindered, and he disregarded the safety of his hands to carefully pull Duo's hacked-off hair into a ponytail at the back of the man's head before tying it off with the discarded elastic band. It was just too unnerving to see Duo's drastically shortened hair floating around his head like that. The ponytail was an improvement, certainly, but it still wasn't the same.

Heero rested his now free hands on the other agent's shoulders, looking down at the instrument cluster at the ship's bridge. "We should be within communications range of the satellite in approximately two hours and seventeen minutes," he said quietly. "We need to calibrate our weapons and review the floor plans of the facility before we dock." He turned to Solo without moving from his unconsciously protective vigil over his partner. "We're contractors with the Sweepers, correct? What are we doing in the manufacturing facility and what are our names?" They needed to iron out every detail possible to avoid suspicion once they infiltrated the satellite.

.

Solo was a bit put-off at the 'creeper' comment, but he decided to brush it off as Duo having one of his notorious hissy fits. The kid had done a lot of that growing up on L2, but he wasn't quite so cute anymore. Completely fuckable, yeah, but definitely not 'cute.' No, he was just bristly and dangerous now. He'd have to take that under advisement the next time he came within the apparently large confines of Duo Maxwell's personal bubble.

Watching Heero run his hands through the American pilot's hair so nonchalantly was annoying. He was certain that he'd won that little stare-down back at the scrapyard, but he supposed he'd have to find another way to assert his claim over Deathscythe's pilot. For now, he needed to talk shop with them. "I'm in charge of quite a few teams of Sweepers," Solo shrugged, leaning back against the ship's interior airlock. "I'm coming to extend the olive branch to their organization, so to speak. You two are team leaders from the Sweepers and you want in on the resistance, too."

Solo reached back to a larger storage compartment and dug around until he found the two Sweepers jackets he'd stashed there before they'd left for the L3 Cluster. He tossed them weightlessly to his brother. "You're teenaged terrorists. Think. I'm sure you two have plenty of aliases. Pick something commonplace and forgettable. I can guarantee you that we'll be under armed escort the entire time we're touring the facility, so don't try anything fancy or stupid. We get in, have a looksee, and get the fuck out. We can storm the place once we have Preventers backup on our side. I don't need any extra holes in myself at the moment."

.

Duo had been pouting, but was shocked to feel Heero suddenly stroking his hair. What was with this guy? First they have an epic fistfight, and then the next thing Duo knew Heero was soothing him. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate it. He dropped the boot he was inspecting as the Japanese pilot pulled what remained of his hair back into a ponytail. He glanced up at Heero, blinking in surprise.

_... he really does love me_, Duo thought resignedly to himself. The thought made him feel uncomfortably warm.

He looked up at Solo as the man began to explain the perimeters of their mission. Undercover, false names. Duo had formerly been a Sweeper, so he knew how the usual gruff, rough-and-tumble conduct could be. Harsh language, slang and extremely lude jokes. He had hung with the best of them.

As for a name. He thought of the alias he had concocted a year back. "Guy Johnson." He said plainly before cracking a grin. "Man I love that name." Suddenly he began to feel a lot better. The weight of his hair had been removed, but having it fully tied made everything seem much more normal. When this was all over he was going to have to properly mourn the loss of his hair over a good, hard drink.

"Make sure you pick something kind of American, Heero, otherwise you'll stick out like a sore thumb. How about Jim-Bob?" He chuckled to himself and began fishing through a file folder that had been wedged in his seat, flipping through printouts of floor plans. "I have been on L3 plenty of times. The Sweepers hardly ever leave the docks, and if they do, they only travel to the warehouses. Those are on the East side, and accessible through the main dock area."

.

Heero rolled his eyes. "John Ritter," he supplied. He knew enough about American culture from Duo to recognize 'Jim-Bob' as a derogatory name. He leaned over his partner's shoulder and entered a few quick commands into the ship's onboard computer. The blueprints for the satellite glowed on the screen. "Once we make it to the rendezvous point at L3's main colony, they'll probably want to escort us to the satellite. The escort will most likely take control of our navigational ability remotely and dock us at the satellite."

Solo was now sliding into the pilot's chair to listen. Heero felt Deathscythe's pilot tense under his hand but continued speaking. "Once they gain control of our ship we will have few options if we need to abort. Stay alert. Chang instructed me not to blow our cover. That's imperative. If we're taken into custody, we cannot resist or fight back." That was going to be an exceptionally difficult task for both Solo and Duo, Heero was sure, but they had no other options. He knew damned well that if they compromised this recon mission Une would have Chang drag all three of them back to Brussels in cuffs.

Blue eyes turned to Solo. "We're trusting you, here. Lead us astray and I won't hesitate to shoot you, sibling or not."

.

Duo was used to being taken places in handcuffs. Normally he put up a little bit of a fight, and so the orders, from CHANG no less, to stand down when confronted and not fight back were going to be hard to follow. But Duo would follow them, because Heero had relayed the message. He would just pretend the orders came from the Wing pilot instead.

At Heero's words of trust Duo looked over at Solo. The other agent was sitting in the head pilot's chair. Already he had become the ringleader. Duo didn't feel comfortable following Solo into this mission, but he had no other choice. He wanted to add on to Heero's promise that he would slit the guy from ear to ear if he really was leading them into a trap.

Duo followed Heero's instructions, studying the map intently. Luckily most of the colonies were laid out the same, with very little variation between designs.

"You know..." he looked over at Solo with a skeptical glance, "If you aren't lying, and we manage to get through this..." he didn't finish his statement. If Solo wasn't lying, and proved he could be a decent agent and comrade, then Duo would reconsider his feelings of disloyalty and negativity concerning the man. But for now he was just as bad as the rest of them. Duo was content with that.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN  
>[Day 10] Lagrange Point 3<p>

Their escort had hailed them half an hour ago, and with their shuttle's navigational capacity taken from them and flanked on four sides by what looked like heavily-armed space cruisers, Heero stood behind the co-pilot's seat that his partner was currently claiming and scowled. They were putting quite a bit of trust into Solo's credibility as a high-ranking Sweepers sergeant. If he gave these rebels any indication that he was some sort of double-agent, Heero estimated their combined chances of escape at less than thirteen percent-fifty-nine if they ignored Une's standing order to avoid direct conflict and combat.

By the time their ship was docked at the resource satellite Duo was visibly agitated, Solo was pacing the back galley of their small shuttle, and Heero was halfway through triple-checking his weapons. The airlock door decompressed loudly, then opened, and a team of five men in flight suits were standing on the platform awaiting them. A somber-looking young man with dirt-colored eyes stepped forward to greet them. "Sergeant Yuy?" he asked. Heero almost responded, but Solo stepped forward quickly and gave the young man a charismatic grin and sloppy salute; it was something Duo would have done, and that irked Wing's pilot for some odd reason. The dirt-eyed man nodded to him. "You can call me Noah," he said calmly. He was clearly indicating that his identity was not to be asked about. "These are your team leaders?" He glanced at Heero and Duo.

Solo's grin grew to an almost leer-like expression. "Yeah, these are Corporals Guy Johnson and John Ritter." With a knowing glance at Heero, his brother threw an arm companionably around the now-braidless American and chuckled. Heero held his breath, praying to space that Duo wouldn't rebuff the purposeful invasion of his personal space, but his partner simply put on his best lopsided smirk and stood there. Crisis averted. "Johnson here approached me about the rumor of resistance in the Sweepers a few weeks ago. Ritter is a colonial sympathizer, and I..." His grin turned wistful. "I'm from L2, born and raised. I'm pretty pissed that after two wars, ESUN still hasn't managed to clean up my home colony. It's bullshit. We'll do anything you need us to do to get your operation in action." He sounded like he meant that too, and Heero was unsure for a moment if the other agent was indeed acting.

Noah nodded thoughtfully, then smiled for the first time. It was a genuine one, the kind that Heero had seen on Winner's boyish face so many times before. Too trusting. This kid was going to end up dead. "Well, I suppose we should take you to the warehouse. That's what you're most interested in, I suspect. We need pilots for these suits, and damned good ones." He turned and began walking through the hangar. His heavily armed escort followed silently, as did the three undercover Preventers. "Do your corporals have any flight experience with mobile suits?"

It was all Heero could do not to laugh outright. He gritted his teeth silently to control the impulse, shooting a covert glance to Duo, who was all but chewing his own lip off to remain quiet. "A bit," Solo answered for them, giving Duo a wary look over his shoulder. "Ritter flew for OZ before leaving to join the Sweepers. Johnson is a mobile suit mechanic, and a damned fine one." The Japanese pilot was almost certain that there was some hidden sexual innuendo in that statement, but he couldn't address it at the moment.

"Excellent," Noah smiled. They had stopped outside of a heavy metal door, and the resistance leader turned to them, surveying both Heero and Duo thoughtfully. "Of course," he said quietly, "We can't jeopardize our operation by allowing just anyone to tour our facility. I require some assurance of your loyalties." Heero felt himself tense as the young man's smile gained a decidedly calculating edge. Just like Winner, indeed. "We have two individuals in our custody whom we have determined to be spies, not supporters of our cause." His muddy brown eyes grew hard and intense. "Ritter and Johnson here are going to dispatch of them." He said it so matter of factly that Heero had to replay the statement in his head twice before he was certain that he'd heard the man correctly.

So they were being initiated? It was crude, but not uncommon. White Fang had had a similar process of gaining entrance in order to separate out the enthusiasts from the potential infiltrators. Heero nodded once. Duo was motionless beside him, but still had that feral, trademark grin on his handsome face. Noah pressed his palm to a security pad near the door and it slid open with a hydraulic hiss. Inside the featureless metal room, two unfamiliar captives were bound in OZ-style forearm cuffs on the floor. They looked terrified. One of them was a middle-aged man in a mechanic's coveralls. The other was a young blonde woman in a wrinkled skirt and suit jacket. Heero swallowed a groan. So much for Une's non-violence policy.

"I know you're both armed. You will surrender your weapons to my security detail. You will complete your objective the old-fashioned way," Noah said evenly. Heero grunted an affirmative before methodically stripping himself of his sidearms. He unloaded all three of them, ejected the clips, and locked the slides open before handing them to the nearest security escort. Beside him, Duo was similarly disarming himself, pulling guns, knives, and small explosives from his pockets, his vest, his waist, and even the top of one boot. Heero did smirk then. His best friend was a walking arsenal even on his bad days. It took three of the security officers to take all of the American's equipment, and they looked startled. When his partner flashed them an almost evil leer, they backed away hastily. Noah turned to Solo. "You will supervise them. I'll be back in thirty minutes." He turned on his heel and exited the room, calling over his shoulder. "Try not to get too much blood on the floor."

Heero raised one eyebrow at his best friend as soon as the door closed, effectively locking them into the room with the two prisoners. Solo sighed heavily and leaned back against the wall. "I say you rock, paper, scissors to see who has to strangle the chick," he drawled, scratching his chin absently.

.

Fucking Hell.

Duo stared across the stark, bare room at the pathetic faces of the prisoners who were handcuffed, awaiting their execution. The braided pilot had killed before. More times than he could count, but not in the way they were now being expected to.

He didn't like this idea. Killing with the hands, in cold blood. It wasn't something he had ever truly done. He had killed in battle. Civilians may have died in the crossfire, but they had been war casualties. He supposed that murder was murder, no matter how you looked at it.

He shifted uncomfortably and stared; wide-eyed at the woman slumped weakly against the floor. Her eyes were half-lidded. He noticed the state of her clothes and felt a flash of heat rise into his face. Duo knew from the fading hope in her eyes and the state of her clothes what had happened to her. There was nothing Duo Maxwell hated more than rapists. Well, other than child molesters. There was a special hell for people who intentionally hurt the innocent.

He supposed he would be going to that same hell, for killing these people, who were innocent to him.

He didn't want to do this. He knew he couldn't do it feeling the way he was now. He would have to pull a Quatre and try to convince himself that what he was about to do was justified in some sort of way. Or maybe this was a Wufei state of mind. Either way, he had to stop feeling sorry for them.

The mission was the most important thing. This thought had been his mantra ever since he had cut his hair off. Nothing else mattered. He didn't matter. Heero didn't matter. He didn't have a life. He didn't have wants or needs or hopes or morals. He was just here to be the arm of Colonel Une and perform a task.

It was a terrible way to be, to brainwash oneself, but it was the only way to protect his already fragile mental state from being completely fucked.

He took a deep sigh and pushed past Solo, bumping him purposefully with his shoulder as if to say 'knock it off', and carefully padded up to the woman's side. He knelt down slowly and frowned, letting his hand reach out to caress her bruised cheek.

He had been here once, on the floor in handcuffs with a broken body. He had felt hopelessness and the painful realization that his life was about to end. Luckily for him he had people like Heero and the other pilots to help him out. He had Solo once, as he had been as a child, to help him out of a situation not too unfamiliar to this.

The woman turned her bloodshot eyes up to stare at him. She had given up. She was too weak to fight back. She had accepted that her life was over. He frowned and grabbed her frail-looking body up into his arms. She looked frightened at first but then relaxed when he said, "I'll make it quick."

People trusted Duo. There was just something about him. Kids liked him, and complete strangers would tell him things without hesitation. It made sneaking into places ridiculously easy, gaining trust and access to people and places prickly Heero Yuy would never have been able to infiltrate.

"Try not to struggle. Relax, and it will be over before you know it," Duo said softly. He raised his hand up to cover the woman's nose and mouth, applying the slightest of pressure. The woman was tense. Duo tried to smile at her. It was his fake smile, the one he automatically projected when he was in pain or under extreme stress. She wouldn't notice the difference. All she would see is sparkling blue-green eyes and a handsome, friendly grin.

Her face began to grow flushed, and instinctively she began to struggle. She was panicking. He knew she would. He clenched his arm around her tightly, holding her wriggling body against his chest while pressing his hand firmly against her face.

It hurt. It hurt like hell watching someone die at your hand. Duo had always tried to pretend it didn't bother him by putting on the God of Death act, lamenting about death like it was as commonplace as table sugar. It didn't matter how much he had to say it, it still fucking hurt.

He felt his chest tighten as she began gasping against his palm. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

Thirty excruciating seconds later she went limp. He opened his eyes and stared down into her lifeless face.

He was shaking, but he tried not to show it. He slid her carefully to the ground, resting her small body gently there. He arranged her neatly as if she were encased in a shroud before pulling himself to a stand. He walked over to the wall beside the door, faced the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

"There. You two can fight over the other one."

.

Watching his best friend murder a woman wasn't nearly as difficult to stomach as Heero had anticipated. They'd both killed a lot of people.

Heero decided that that was his understatement of the year.

The middle-aged man in cuffs had watched Duo suffocate his fellow captive with wide, panicked eyes. They were green, a pale seafoam color that Heero had only ever seen on Earth. It reminded him of Cinq for some reason. Heero knew the man wouldn't try to run. He was almost visibly paralyzed with fear, and he was not a challenge.

Heero knew precisely two hundred and eighteen ways to kill someone with his bare hands. He could bend steel, after all, and to a certain gauge. Crushing the man's trachea would be easy. Blunt-force head trauma would almost definitely kill him. One decent blow to the sternum would stop the man's heart instantly.

There was always something morbidly fascinating about killing someone in close combat. Unlike his partner, Heero did not hesitate. This was a mission. Killing civilians, when not absolutely unavoidable, was acceptable collateral damage. The probability of the three of them leaving this room under favorable circumstances without killing both prisoners was less than twenty percent. Those were not acceptable odds.

Heero was not comfortable with Solo's nonchalant attitude towards this entire situation, however. He was also beyond tired of his brother underestimating him and that challenging glint in the Sweeper's cobalt eyes. Wing's pilot wasn't normally the type to engage in what Duo referred to as 'dick-waving contests,' but this was personal. If there was one thing that Heero was good at, it was being a soldier.

Closing the distance between himself and the second prisoner took four seconds. Positioning himself behind his fear-stricken victim took two. The cold stare he gave Solo as he calmly and methodically snapped the man's neck without any expression on his face took no effort whatsoever. He saw the other agent flinch, then look away distastefully. They may have both been engineered to be 'super soldiers,' but Heero had seen actual combat. He had hurt and maimed and killed many people in nineteen years. He doubted that Solo had ever seen a real battlefield.

When the second victim crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll, Heero walked away from the body without checking for a pulse. He had felt the vertebrae crack in his hands. The guilt that always came afterwards was like a palpable presence lurking just beneath the Japanese agent's conscious thoughts. It wasn't that Heero felt no remorse for killing people; it was that he ignored it. It would only compromise his objectivity and jeopardize the mission.

With one last icy glare at his brother, Heero slumped down against the wall beside his partner and buried his head in his hands. This whole process had taken less than ten minutes. They had another twenty to wait for the resistance leader's return.

.

The next twenty minutes were passed in silence. Duo hadn't turned from staring at the wall. He didn't want to think about what he had done, and turning to look at the bodies would make dwelling on it inevitable. Repression and denial could be a beautiful thing.

Finally the door's lock shifted and the face of the young man from before appeared in the doorway. Duo watched as the Sweeper, Noah, entered the room and checked the pulses of the dead prisoners to verify that they had been killed. Once he was satisfied he addressed Solo curtly, "Well now we know they can take orders and kill. Now we have to establish that they know as much about mobile suits as you claim."

Duo twitched and turned to eye the kid closely. The idea of someone questioning his ability to pilot and understand the innermost workings of any kind of mecha irritated him.

"Where are my guns?" He asked briskly, his voice dripping with distrust. The Sweeper hesitated, having been caught off guard by Duo's sudden inquiry.

"That is going to have to wait until my superior officers have given you clearance. For now, you'll be fine without them," Noah said flatly before walking away and out of the door. Duo watched as Solo followed, and obediently he fell into step behind the other undercover agent. He glanced over at Heero with a skeptical look that said 'can you believe this shit?' before trudging reluctantly after the two.

Noah had led them down a series of corridors, heavily staffed and guarded by Sweepers and peculiar looking people of all ethnicities wearing plain clothes. They passed through a security checkpoint where an armed guard was standing in front of the door. He moved at the sight of Noah escorting the new arrivals and allowed the other Sweeper to scan his hand at another door lock. They entered a dark room very similar to the one they had been in before, only this time the room was lined with tables against all four walls.

On the tables Duo immediately recognized various mobile suit parts.

He blinked and turned to look at Noah with a frown. "What is this about?"

Noah gestured to the tables with a casual tilt of his head. "If you are as much of a whiz-kid as Yuy says, then you should be able to tell Sergeant James over there what all of these things are."

Duo looked up and saw an older American man in coveralls standing beside the table to his left. The man seemed familiar, but he couldn't place him. Maybe he had been a friend of Howard?

"Huh. Right, whatevs..." Duo said with a shrug before approaching the table. He smiled at the older man, pointed to the nearest thing on the table and said confidently, "Grease pressure distributor." He shifted one step to the side and pointed at the next item on the table. "DC flux distributor."

.

Heero almost rolled his eyes at the asinine 'test' that Noah had set up for his partner. Wing's pilot knew from personal experience that the American agent could rip apart a Taurus suit in two hours and rebuild the thing with his eyes closed. The man had spent half the war in hangars and shuttle bays playing with dangerous electronics and sensitive explosives, all of which he had used to outfit his Gundam himself. If there was one thing that Duo Maxwell was undeniably good at, it was being a mechanic.

Solo stood silently beside him, an almost proud smirk on his face as Duo pointed at the long row of parts, rattling off names and ad-libbing uses of various mechanisms like a kid in a candy store. If this was how they were being tested on their flight abilities, Heero was confident that they would exceed expectations in any other demands the resistance leader could make of them. He wondered absently if Noah would require them to play in a flight simulator next.

Until 'Sergeant James' tensed perceptibly and moved forward to tower over Duo suddenly, a nasty look on his weathered face. Heero's blue eyes flew to the table, and he saw his friend's hand still lingering over one particular piece of machinery almost possessively. It was a small gunmetal-colored box with an odd line of diodes on one side, and it looked like it had survived some type of high-intensity explosion. The Japanese agent felt his stomach attempt a backflip. The innocuous-looking part was one of the many power converters for the hyper-jammer ECM suite arrays on Deathscythe. Heero knew this because, on the one occasion that he had raided that suit for parts, he'd been sorely tempted to steal that exact technology and outfit Wing with it. Fuck.

"How in hell do you know what that is, boy?" James growled slowly. Heero was ninety-eight percent sure that they were dead. If Duo could come up with a plausible explanation for having an intimate knowledge of a Gundam's radar-jamming technology that didn't include actually piloting the damned thing, Heero swore to himself that he would kiss the man full on the mouth as soon as they got the hell off of this satellite. Hell, he'd blow him.

Tell him you were part of the OZ team that rounded up Deathscythe's parts after Barton blew the damned thing up with a beam cannon.

Say that you worked in reconnaissance for the Barton Foundation and studied the original blueprints for that suit.

For the love of space, lie. For once in your life, lie and save all of our asses.

Heero knew that his partner couldn't hear his thoughts, but he'd be damned if Duo's pride condemned them all to a military-style execution. Not here. Not after everything they'd survived.

Noah was staring at James and Duo with intense interest. Solo looked ready to tackle the older mechanic. Heero himself felt the overwhelming urge to shoot the man, grab his partner, and run as fast as he could, but he knew that simply wasn't possible. All he could do was stand there and pray that his best friend's wit and resourcefulness would shine through in this moment of crisis.

Needless to say, Heero wasn't holding his breath.

.

Duo stared up at the older man with wide, startled blue eyes. He narrowed them, hoping the man wouldn't have noticed the faint ring of violet around his irises that the colored contacts just barely concealed.

He couldn't believe it. Here it was, a charred piece of his original Deathscythe here in the possession of the rebels. His heart had nearly skipped a beat as he spotted it in the pile of junk they were testing him on. He had reflexively grabbed it, without entirely thinking and muttered, "How the hell did you get this?"

It had been a mistake that he immediately began to regret. The mechanic was upon him in seconds. He flinched and straightened his posture, reflexively glaring in defiance into the face of being revealed.

His mind raced, and he quickly blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"Of course I know what this is," he said arrogantly, still protectively clutching the part in his hands. "This thing is legendary. I never thought I would see one of these things, especially here. You guys are impressive, having access to Gundam technology."

The sound of the word 'Gundam' slipping from his tongue felt foreign. Having been a Gundam pilot, Duo hardly used the word. He had never needed to say it before. In the past he only needed to say 'my suit' or call his suit by name.

James was still staring down at him, unconvinced. Duo smiled brighter, his body language exuding complete ease and confidence.

"What? Never heard of ''? It is only the best resource for all things mobile suit. I have never seen a hyper jammer, except in schematic form. Heh. I guess old timers like you don't lurk the nets much, huh? S'okay. Hey look! A class-three pressure stabilizer with a barometric sensor! Fuck, these things are worth at least thirty-thousand credits!"

Duo flitted away from the older man to inspect more items on the table, hoping his casual demeanor and superior knowledge of the nets made the older man question his suspicions.

Noah cleared his throat and gave the mechanic James a skeptical glance before speaking up quietly, "Yes, well, you obviously know your stuff. Let's move on."

The young man sighed and led them very unenthusiastically through a side door and down a hallway lit only by long strips of light blue luminescent tape. They walked for almost a mile, deep into the underbelly of the satellite. The artificial gravity here was heavy, causing Duo to consciously struggle to pick up his feet with each step, trying his best not to awkwardly trip over his own feet.

They stopped at a hatch door in the dark hall. There were no guards here, only a secure door with a keypad.

Noah ordered his escorts to stand aside and keep everybody back while he punched in a lengthy access code. The door hummed before hissing open. Inside was a round room, lit with only a few spotlights to the right and left side of the room. Duo spotted a large, egg-shaped black object in the center of the room. It had a hatch on the front, open to reveal a replica of a mobile suit cockpit. Monitors and controls covered the majority of the interior of the egg.

A simulator? These guys were really serious when it came to recruiting. Duo thought this was smart of them. Test capabilities before ever letting the prospective recruits know what you had up your sleeve.

Once everyone was inside of the testing room a separate operative closed and locked the door. The boy, Noah, approached the egg and tapped a few keys. The console glistened to life, and the familiar dull whir of a mobile suit operating system booting up. Duo couldn't help but grin. He had forgotten all about that sound.

"Johnson," Noah commanded, the presence of the simulator gad given the young man sharpness to his voice, "If your clearance is passed you'll be admitted to the mechanical unit. Ritter, come and verify that Yuy is no liar."

Duo grinned as he took a seat against the wall where the operatives had gathered. He hoped they had a simulation that could challenge Heero's skills. He then wondered… was Yuy going to show them everything or reign in his abilities to come off more normal?

Well, either way, these guys were in for a show.

.

Heero felt strangely apprehensive about the simulator. His piloting abilities, while formidable in their own right, had relied on the ZERO System for so much of the wars that he wondered briefly if he had grown too dependent on the system. The likelihood that these resistance organizers had managed to procure a copy of the system was less than twelve percent. He would probably be tested on a standard, run-of-the-mill OZ cadet simulator.

Glancing quickly at his partner, Heero almost rolled his eyes at the lazy grin on Duo's face. He was expecting a spectacle, but Wing's pilot knew that displaying the full spectrum of his flying skills would probably only garner him suspicion. The egg-shaped apparatus felt foreign and uncomfortable. It had been design with a very utilitarian purpose in mind, and it wasn't fitted to his individual body type the way that Wing had been. The seat was far too wide, which would lead to unintentional lateral movement, and he had to sit forward of the chair's back to securely reach the pedals. What a piece of junk.

Sliding the harness straps over his shoulders was second nature, but they were heavily padded and bulky. The two throttle shifters were fairly standard, as was the control yoke was similar to the one in Wing; it even had armament switches to one side. The true differences in this fabricated cockpit became apparent only when it was powered up. Heero found himself completely surrounded by screens-overhead, below the pilot's seat, to his sides, and directly in front of him. Wing's monitor system had been extensive, but this bordered on overkill. It gave him the impression of floating in the air, with visibility in almost every direction. The navigational cluster was digital, and the altimeter, systems status, and mundane data like fuel consumption, velocity, and wind shear scrolled past him on the side of the main monitor, which curved around the front of the cockpit. The weapons and targeting systems for this simulator seemed particularly advanced-the targeting function seemed linked directly with his optical movements, tracked by a thin beam of green light emanating from a small piece of machinery embedded in the top edge of the main monitor. Heero estimated it to be on par with, if not more accurate than, Wing's search-eye ability. Wherever he looked on his monitors, a small red digital scope appeared. His radar was frighteningly similar to Wing's; it made itself apparent as a large globe-like display directly below the yoke, but not quite obstructing his view of the monitor below him. It was an interesting experience to watch the landscape roll by between his knees, to say the least.

This was one of the most advanced cockpits that Heero had ever encountered, and that was saying a lot; he was the former owner of the most advanced mobile suit in the history of after-colony warfare. He barely had time to grab hold of the thrusters before the cockpit hummed around him and sirens began blaring near his head. His radar suddenly pulsed with activity, identifying seven enemy suits. To his vague surprise, the main monitor began offering up blueprints of each model of suit and listing off vulnerabilities before he could target any one in particular. When he blatantly ignored the computer's attempts to auto-lock onto the nearest target, it overrode his decision, refusing to allow him to fire, and a monotone female voice sounded around him. "Target is not optimal."

What the fuck?

Zero had never actually spoken to him. Sure, its operating system contained a mild form of artificial intelligence that sensed when the suit was undergoing more mechanical stress than was acceptable, but it had never, never overrode a direct command from its pilot.

"Override computer targeting," Heero said aloud. The monitor to his left showed two enemy suits closing in on him fast. He attempted to target them once more, but again the computer ignored him.

"Targets present lower threat risk than enemy Taurus at seventy-three degrees south-southeast." Heero growled and swiveled his head to check the monitor below him. Surely enough, there was a suit approaching him at a rapid rate, a beam saber drawn and ready.

The Japanese agent practically growled at the computer. "Terminate computer override," he barked, forgetting momentarily that this was a simulator, and that he was being both watched and tested. His radar screeched and the computer finally relented. He took out all three suits with a skilled twist of the thrusters and pedals, blowing the two to his due west apart before slicing neatly through the suit below him with his simulated beam saber. The other four enemy suits were dispatched in short order, and Heero glanced from the radar to the main monitor. Clear.

"Targets neutralized. Resuming operational capabilities," the computer informed him calmly. He glared at the monitor. What the hell kind of operating system was this?

The simulator was powered down and Noah stepped forward, an incredulous smile on his face. "You're the first potential pilot we've had to force the computer to back down. Good show," he chuckled. "Did you learn to pilot like that in OZ?"

Heero met his stare evenly and lied through his teeth. "Yes."

Nodding to himself, Noah turned to Solo, who looked fairly impressed, and shrugged. "They are who you say they are," he said. "My security detail will escort you to the hangar, now. We'll give you a very brief tour of our new mobile suit models, and then you will be asked to leave. Our final production date is slated for one month from tomorrow, and we will not require your services until just before then."

Solo nodded his assent, and Heero climbed out of the simulator with one last loathing glare at the main monitor. If those suits were equipped with this system, ESUN and Preventers had one hell of a problem. His hands were still shaking as he exited the room beside his partner.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

**[Day 10] ****mo-49573**

They had passed their tests. Duo had convinced them that he could build a replica Gundam out of LEGOS and Heero had blow up a bunch of simulated enemies to the delight of the young Sweeper rebel operative, Noah.

Duo wondered who that kid was. How had he ended up here, and why he was so much younger than everyone else around here, but somehow in charge of everything. Does he know the main leader? Is he related to him in some way? Duo supposed he shouldn't be too surprised. He had been fighting in the name of the colonies and all that he thought was right when he was fifteen. Hell, he was training even before that. Heero and Solo had been doing things much more profound than this kid as early as five years old.

Duo noticed Noah's delight and skip in his step as he led them from the testing room and into the hallway again to trek deeper into the center of the resource satellite. It was getting colder and Duo automatically hugged himself and rubbed the tops of his arms with his chilled fingers. Solo must have noticed. The older man casually draped his arm around him like he had before as they followed the eager operative down the corridor. Duo wanted to punch him. Right in his handsome face. Maybe he wouldn't be so damn attractive if he had a swollen bump in the middle of his nose. He glanced over at Solo and got a good look at him in the dim lighting of the corridor. He had been avoiding looking at the man up until now, mostly due to his personal grudge against the guy, but also because any time he and Solo were anywhere near each other Heero got much more irritable.

Solo was the spitting image of Heero. Why hadn't he made that connection? He supposed it was because he had never seen Heero as a kid, so he couldn't link the two together in his head. Now that they were side by side, the resemblance was uncanny. He wondered if the Sweeper operatives would notice the similarity, too?

Duo wondered if he would have liked Heero as a kid. If he was anything like Solo was, then he assumed he would have. Solo had been strong and outspoken, capable and attentive to the other kids. Somehow Duo couldn't see Heero any younger than when they had first met. The thought made him sad.

The American pilot peered over at Solo before shrugging off his offending arm. He inched closer to Heero. The Japanese pilot's hands were trembling slightly. They had been ever since they had left the simulator room. Duo wondered if Heero was cold, too.

He fell back a few steps and gave Heero a worried look. The simulation the Wing pilot had done was unlike anything Duo had ever seen before. Sure, the scenario was usual, but the way the computer tried to override the pilot had been strange. Why would they develop something so argumentative? If the computer were so perfect and they figured it would be more effective in battle, then why not make more mobile dolls? That was what HE would do. Rather than try to get more people in on the cause he would just pool his resources and develop systems that were faster, stronger and more efficient than sloppy wannabe soldiers.

God! What was he saying? He shook his head and frowned, trying to dismiss his own mutinous thoughts as they stopped in front of an enormous hangar door. Noah signaled for the two men who assisted him to open the doors. Inside, Duo saw something he never thought he would see again.

Mobile suits. Thirty of them.

Duo stared into the doorway and then stumbled ahead as he followed Noah and his staff into the enormous hangar. Men in jumpsuits were milling around the feet of the completed suits. Just like Solo had reported, the suits were small - only about 50 feet tall - with basic mobile suit structure. They were painted midnight blue, with a badge hand painted on the front chest-piece of each one. It was a white feather, standing upright on the calamus. Each suit was similar and basic. Two arms, two legs, massive chest where he assumed the pilot sat. Most of the suits were unarmed.

Duo immediately spotted generators used to charge M-particle weapons. He had only seen that sort of thing in books Howard had shown him. M-particle technology was ancient.

He frowned and watched as Noah approached a technician who was rushing past with an arm full of parts. He said something to the man in private, and then the tech ran off in the opposite direction.

"This is our current fleet of suits. We anticipate having fifteen more by the end of the month. Of course, I can't give you any more information that that. Just know we have our connections, and getting new suits will not be an issue. All of these suits have been manufactured from the ground up here in outer space." Noah grinned proudly before crossing his arms over his chest. Duo felt his gaze on him and he tried to busy himself with looking at the nearest suit. Noah wasn't lying, it was new. Duo could smell the fresh paint drying on the neo-titanium.

"So... which one of these babies am I gonna get to pilot?" Duo said with a grin, gesturing to the one nearby. Noah frowned and shook his head. "No, you won't be piloting, remember? We intend on operating under the dual-team method. You will be the chief mechanic for your friend's mobile suit." He pointed to Heero and sighed. "But with today's test, our boss might want to find a more challenging weapon."

Noah turned and gestured for them to leave the hangar, apparently not wanting them to linger too long or see too much. As they shuffled back into the corridor the door behind them clanged to a close.

The walk up the corridor seemed to take forever, and with each step Duo thought about all of the data Solo had given them before they had landed on L3. All of it had been true, then. Brand new mobile suits. Duo thought that the new suits looked a lot like the Gundams, but he couldn't be too sure. If they had developed a more sophisticated version of ZERO, and had collected pieces of Deathscythe then who knew what else they were capable of.

In the past the Gundams had been dangerous because they were a sophisticated team of suits with particular strengths that, together, were practically invincible. Had these people taken the very best of all of the Gundams to produce miniature all-encompassing versions for their own use? The thought of thirty-plus mobile suits with the power of the Gundams raiding the helpless Earth Sphere made Duo shudder.

They were fucked. Royally, and completely. How the hell were the Preventers going to be able to fight these guys? A 9mm and a combat knife against a Gundam-inspired mobile suit? Seriously, they were screwed.

The only way they were going to be able to stop them was from the inside. He was glad they had gotten in. Cutting his braid was a small sacrifice for the protection of the world. At the thought of his missing hair he unconsciously raised his arm to run his fingers through the now shortened mass tied loosely at the base of his neck before glancing over at Heero. He couldn't wait to get out of here. There was a lot of work to do.

.

The moment Heero saw the suits he knew that they were in for serious trouble. He'd expected reconstructed Aliiance or OZ units, perhaps even Romafeller's mobile doll fleet brought back from the grave. What he had not foreseen was the Sweepers collecting ever bit of detonated Gundam technology they could get their hands on and using it to build new composite models. Thirty of them. Fifteen more on the way, if Noah was to be believed.

Shit.

A glance at the nearest suit told him that the resistance organization had designed an unholy union of Wing's operating system, Deathscythe's stealth technology, Sandrock's maneuverability, and Altron's compact strength. These suits did not appear to be armed yet, and the Japanese agent cringed internally when he thought of Heavyarms' sheer barrage of firepower. These suits would be overkill in an effort to fight ESUN.

"We've named them Aequitas," Noah said quietly, almost reverently, as he led them from the hangar. The Latin word for 'justice.' How appropriate. Heero caught his partner's worried glance and cut his eyes away sharply. They would talk once they were clear of this satellite, and not a moment sooner. As the hangar doors closed heavily behind them, the resistance leader chuckled to himself and addressed Solo, who had remained uncharacteristically silent through the tour. "You will report back to this satellite without escort in a discreet shuttle in three weeks' time. You are all now officially part of the Hathcock Project. Don't disappoint us." Heero recognized the name instantly. His late mentor, Odin Lowe, had been particularly interested in regaling his young apprentice with stories of ancient assassins and snipers as a child. He'd never been one for bedtime stories, but Carlos Hathcock had been one of his favorites. That also explained the logo painted onto the fronts of those Aequitas suits. It was an obscure reference, but Heero found it fitting.

They were led through the maze of dark, oppressive corridors in what Heero was certain was a different pattern than the one they had taken to reach the hangar. Noah still wasn't completely confident that he could trust them. Maybe this kid wouldn't end up dead, after all. As they neared the docking terminal, a group of mechanics passed them in the hallway and Noah, along with his escort, stopped sharply and saluted one of the men. He slowed and stepped from the murky shadows of the corridor to give the young man a friendly smile and salute. "Commander Lowe, this is one of our new pilot-mechanic units."

Commander Lowe.

Heero stared at the man in complete shock. Greying blonde hair, intelligent green eyes, posture that spoke of constant awareness of his surroundings...

Lowe was staring back at Heero with a similar mix of disbelief and awe on his face. It had been eleven years. Lowe was supposed to be dead. Dekim Barton had shot him. Heero had watched him bleed to death. He had been eight years old.

The next thoughts that raced into the Wing pilot's mind on the heels of that incredulous realization was that if Lowe said anything about knowing Heero then they were going to die. Their covers would be blown to hell and they couldn't hope to make it to their shuttle without getting shot by Noah's security detail. Heero met his once-mentor's green eyes with an almost pleading look in his blues.

Lowe paused for a long moment before wrenching his eyes away and nodding absently. "Welcome aboard," he said gruffly, before continuing down the hallway. Heero didn't wait for Noah's dismissal. While Solo discussed some last-minute details with the young man, his brother stormed past Duo and into the shuttle. Once safely inside and away from the eyes of the Hathcock Project, Heero smashed his fist through one of the storage compartment doors in the rear of the ship. Then another. By the time his teammates joined him on the shuttle, there wasn't a single piece of unnecessary plastic or metal in the spacecraft that hadn't been destroyed.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
>[Day 10] Outer Space, L3<p>

Duo had known there was something wrong with Heero even before getting inside of the ship to see all of the damage the other pilot had done. Heero really had a temper, and Duo didn't blame him. Wasn't that what Dr. Fred was for? To make sure they didn't participate in any self-destructive behavior? It could have been worse. Heero could have ended up as a junky or something.

He wanted to know what was bothering his friend but it would have to wait until they were clear of the satellite. Heero was nowhere to be seen. Duo assumed the other pilot had stalked off somewhere to the back of the ship to brood. He turned to Solo and sighed before slamming the hatch to the ship closed. He yanked the long metal arm of the seal-lock and waited until the light over the hatch flickered green, indicating that a complete seal had been achieved. Then he made his way to the bridge of the ship and sat down in the co-pilot's chair. He wanted more than anything to turn this baby over and floor it out of here but he had to wait. They were still being watched, and he was supposed to be Solo's newfound lackey.

He waited while Solo expertly booted up the ship's operating system and began to warm up the engines. He remembered playing a game similar to this in a large refrigerator box behind the church. Solo was always the captain, and he had been his right-hand man. At the time it was because Solo was the older kid. That was how children thought: the older kid was always the leader. Little did Duo realize at the time that it wasn't because Solo was older that he ended up being their leader, but that the other boy had been a genius. Ridiculously smart, capable and able to instill trust in others.

Even now, Duo was trusting Solo to get them out of this dock and into open space. He and Heero trusted Solo to carry out his part of the mission, without even really knowing him. It was Solo's charisma that made him stand out apart from everyone else. He knew that he had a part of that, himself.

Duo realized that he was staring and when Solo glanced up from the controls to look at him he immediately turned his attention to the control panel in front of him, flipping through the touch screen controls to look at streams of insignificant data.

Solo was smart, still smarter than he was. He had managed to manipulate both of them into falling for this mission. He had managed to get them out to L2, had them warring with each other, and had Duo convinced that he was dead for years. The thought of someone having so much power over him made Duo uncomfortable, but he was also impressed by it. Solo shared the same genetic makeup as Heero did, which when looked at from that perspective, made the concept of Solo being a superhuman kid so much more believable.

How did he even get here, sitting on a ship with two of the world's most capable and most dangerous super-soldier prototypes? What were the odds of him being friends with the both of them in such a short amount of time? The universe was a vast wasteland of useless lives and yet somehow the most influential of them had managed to come together. All because of a cause. All because of the colonies.

Duo shifted in his seat and assisted with the side thrusters to stabilize the ship as it rounded a corner and exited the main gate of the resource satellite.

What were the odds that Duo, the street orphan from L2, would have become a Gundam pilot? What were the odds of him being a crucial part of the wars that reshaped the Earth and the Orbital Sphere? How the hell did he manage to meet such influential people such as Une and Heero and Quatre? How the hell did he manage to get here, an undercover Preventer sitting alongside his old, thought-to-be-dead childhood friend piloting out of Lagrange Point Three with the former savior of the world, Wing pilot zero-one, brooding in the rear cargo hold?

Well, nobody could say he had lived a boring life. Duo got up slowly once they had cleared the resource satellite and let the weightlessness of space suspend him in the air beside his chair. He tapped the ground with a toe and slid up behind Solo's chair, grabbed the back of it and said plainly, "You got it from here, right?" Then he careened out of the bridge and down the narrow, short hall to the cargo unit.

It was cold, the seeping chill of space already making its way through the thin walls of the area not intended for human life. Heero was back there somewhere, Duo was sure of it. Once he was a good ways in he stopped his forward float with a hand on a support beam.

"Heero? Hey, are you okay, man?" He called out into the massive hold. He wanted to know why Heero had fucked up the entire loading room of the ship, and why his face had blanched at the sight of the Commander that Noah had introduced them to. He had seen his fair share of gruff captains and commanders in his time, but the guy seemed pretty normal- if not more collected- than most.

"Who was that guy?"

.

Duo's voice echoed hollowly around the cargo hold. Wing's pilot wasn't feeling particularly verbose at the moment. He had sat down behind a large metal shipping crate and buried his face in his knees. Shutting down the train wreck of emotion and memory rampaging through his mind was taking far more effort than it should have. His thoughts jumped from how cold the walls of the ship were even through his Sweepers jacket to the first time he'd looked through the scope of a high-powered rifle, Lowe standing vigilantly over his shoulder, from playground obstacle course training to just how badly his left hand was throbbing.

Pain. Excellent. That was a great distraction. Heero punched the floor of the ship with his bleeding fist a few times and the pain flared and lanced through the rest of his arm like liquid fire. Wing's pilot focused on that instead of how angry and confused Lowe's presence had made him. That man was supposed to have died eleven years ago.

"Is J going to come back from the grave next?" he laughed brokenly. "That man was Odin Lowe." This all seemed so surreal. Solo, whom Heero had never known in childhood, had apparently accomplished that feat, and then revealed him to be Heero's brother. Now his mentor was alive and running a rebellion manufacturing dangerous mobile suit technology in preparation for a war with ESUN. He still wasn't certain if they could really trust Solo, and they were completely dependent on him to maintain their cover in order to get Preventers into the resource satellite. The man had an obvious hard-on for his best friend, and Heero was fairly certain that he too was in love with his partner. Chang was going to be beyond angry when he saw the damage to the ship's interior. Une would probably have a minor heart attack when they explained the new operating system in those suits...

Heero looked up at Deathscythe's pilot, his messy ponytail sticking out from over his shoulder, and chuckled without mirth. "You love him, don't you?"

.

The slamming noise of flesh against metal was freaking him out and at the first indication of the direction from which the noise had come Duo had took off. He landed against the shipping crate where Heero was curled up against the wall.

Blood. Duo smelled it and saw it everywhere, seeping slowly out of Heero's balled fist. Small droplets of it broke loose and wiggled off weightlessly towards the center of the large cargo room.

He had heard the other pilot yelling something about Dr. J, and Odin Lowe... Odin Lowe. Wasn't that the guy who raised Heero?

Suddenly it all was making sense. Duo balanced himself against the crate, keeping his body from floating away in the opposite direction. As he exhaled his warm breath hung in the air, the moisture dissipating in slow motion in all directions.

_"You love him, don't you?"_

Duo blinked. What the hell was he talking about?

"Love who?" He said automatically, but then suddenly wished he hadn't when he saw Heero's eyebrow violently twitch. He pushed himself backwards slightly, just in case the other pilot was as volatile as he looked. "You... mean..." Duo scanned his mind quickly trying to figure out who Heero was talking about. Then he remembered how ticked off Heero was that Solo had touched him earlier that day. "You mean, Solo?"

Duo frowned. He wasn't sure how to explain this to Yuy. He wasn't very good at putting to words the complicated feelings he seemed to have. Carefully he grabbed the edge of the crate and tugged it with his fingertips, giving himself just enough momentum to plop onto the ground beside Heero. The touch of the cold metal made him shudder. He reached over and grabbed his friend's shoulder firmly before giving him his most serious and genuine calm expression.

"I used to. I loved him when we were kids. He was like a brother to me. He took care of me, and he cared about me when nobody else would give me the time of fucking day. So yeah, I did. The guy in there now, I don't even know him." He gave Yuy a confident squeeze and smiled, "I like you a lot, though. I don't know what love is, but if it is being scared that you'll die, and thinking about you all the time, and worrying about nothing but you until you return... then I've been in love with you for a long time. Or I have just been a fucking obsessed fanboy. I haven't quite figured that out, yet."

He kept smiling, not because he was trying to hide how he was feeling, but because he was happy he could talk to candidly with Heero about stuff like this.

"So, that being said," he reached over with his free hand and grabbed Heero's bloody fist, "Since I love you and all, will ya stop bleeding all over hell? Seriously, you're not gonna have any blood left if you keep doing this shit."

.

Heero looked down at his injured hand held in Duo's and nodded slowly. There was something about his friend's presence that was calming; Heero didn't bother trying to sort it out in his head. As it stood, the American was an excellent distraction from the confusion, rage, and turmoil in his head. He mumbled a quiet, "Sorry," as another drop of blood slipped from his damaged knuckles and disappeared into the cargo hold.

Leaning over and kissing his partner probably wasn't the best idea he'd had and acted upon that day, but it helped to solidify in his mind that Duo was after him, not his brother. That was a very important distinction in Heero's opinion.

They had a mission to finish. That should have come foremost in Heero's mind, not the complex insecurities and questions he had about... well, everything. Odin Lowe's reappearance really didn't change much. If that man was going to blow Heero's cover, he would have done so before letting them off the resource satellite. Solo was a non-threat at the moment, and Wing's pilot didn't hesitate for a second in thinking that if he became an issue, he and Duo would have no qualms with neutralizing him. As for those suits...

"I want to fly them," Heero said quietly. He'd missed Wing sorely for the first year after the Eve Wars, and the weightless cold of space reminded him of piloting his Gundam. It was an exhilarating rush that he hadn't been able to replicate with ordinary spacecraft. His blue eyes caught his friend's. "It'll probably land me in an ESUN prison, but I want to fly one."

His good hand tangled into the base of Duo's ponytail and Heero winced at the tangible evidence of that missing rope of hair. That was definitely going to take some getting used to. But they had made it into that satellite, completed their objectives, and got out without a scratch or interspace incident. Une would have nothing to complain about. Heero decided that they wouldn't mention the two spies they had dispatched. He doubted anyone would notice their disappearances, anyway.

Contacting Chang would be their first priority once they arrived back on L2. Right after a hot shower, a proper meal, and at least six hours of sleep. Heero felt ready to drop right there in the cargo hold, leaning on his best friend. Maybe it was the fatigue of piloting that strange operating system. Maybe it was stress. maybe it was blood loss. Heero frowned down at his bloody fist and then turned to Duo. "Is there a first aid kit on this ship?"

.

Duo realized after Heero had kissed him that he rather liked kissing. Especially the Wing pilot. He was so random about it, and that was part of the fun. He just smiled at him. When the other pilot had alerted him to his bleeding knuckles he blinked and nodded quickly, "Oh fuck. Yeah, yeah of course. Lemme go get it."

He kicked off the wall, tumbled into the hallway clumsily, bumped his head on the doorway and found the first aid kit. A minute later he was back. He landed non-to-gracefully beside the Wing pilot and pulled out some disinfectant ointment. He applied it slowly and carefully, trying to avoid letting it loose to free-float in the air. Then he slowly worked his fingers over the wound and wrapped it with a long piece of nude-colored fabric bandage. Once it was wrapped firmly he clipped it in place and grinned.

"There. No more punching stuff. Wufei is gonna go apeshit as it is." He laughed at the thought of Chang's beet red face parted in a full-fledged hissy fit as he took in the damage Heero had done to the borrowed shuttle. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing after all?

"I also think you should pilot those suits, too. I mean, not just for recon purposes. They look like a shit ton of fun. Might as well get a bit of entertainment in before we blow them up?"

Duo had just thought of something important. His voice lowered slightly, though there wasn't anyone nearby who could hear, "you think we can actually pull that off? Destroying those suits? I mean... what if they are made out of Gundanium? I was pretty sure that the external lower leg panel of that suit we were next to was neo-titanium. That is hard enough to blow up, but fuck... if they managed to get a hold of our suit's technology, then who is to say they haven't mined Gundanium from somewhere secret as well?"

He frowned and pushed up slightly against the floor to float just above it, keeping his ass and back away from the cold metal of the hold. His mind was racing. The ESUN and Preventers had dispatched and destroyed all resources of Gundanium that had been recorded, but that didn't mean that it didn't exist anywhere else. He kept his hand gently grasped on the forearm of Heero's injured hand and sighed. This was more than he had bargained for.

"First we go hunting for a psycho killer, then next thing we know we're dealing with a full-fledged space revolution. Seriously, I didn't sign up for this shit."

He lifted his other hand up to rub at his eye, "Fucking contacts. Ugh..." He kept rubbing at it then stopped when it started to sting. "So, you think Odin Lowe recognized you, huh? What are you gonna do...?"

.

Heero regarded his partner wearily. "They're neo-titanium. Without the actual Gundams around anymore there would be no need to manufacture suits out of Gundanium alloy. We still haven't seen the last fifteen suits, though. If they are a different model, we'll have no way of knowing about it until we go back to that satellite." Neo-titanium was hardy material, forgiving of impact and able to withstand incredible temperatures. It would make atmospheric re-entry without straining. Destroying it would be difficult, but certainly not impossible.

"I almost took out both of our suits with short-ranged tactical naval torpedoes. We can destroy those suits, but it might be best to blow up the entire satellite with the Aequitas fleet still inside." Heero couldn't really speculate on the other fifteen units until they knew what they were dealing with.

The question about Lowe didn't really surprise him, but Heero still flinched. It was absolutely incredible that they could plan for almost every eventuality in a given mission and still run into unexpected scenarios like the one just now at the terminal. "I'll do nothing," the Japanese pilot responded quietly. "Unless he gets in out way." That was really all that he needed to say. He didn't want to add that he, unlike his partner, would not hesitate to pull the trigger against a childhood mentor, given the right motivation.

Heero tugged gently on Duo's arm, pulling the American down towards him and locking his arms around the man's waist. He buried his face in the back of the Deathscythe pilot's neck and sighed heavily. "You know that destroying these suits is just the surface, right? We'll still have to find out who's giving the Hathcock Project their funding. Those people will have to be rounded up, and put on trial, and..." Heero trailed off. It never ended. And Duo was right-they hadn't 'signed up for this shit.'

"I doubt that Une will be terribly thrilled about either of us getting anywhere near those suits, especially with such a strange operating system. ZERO never actually spoke to me, but that Aequitas computer overrode my commands as its pilot and disregarded direct voice commands. I can't understand how an OS that behaves that way could be beneficial in combat?"

.

Duo let loose a long sigh as Heero grabbed him and placed his hands over the top of Heero's wrists. The reminder that war and violence was, indeed, an Endless Waltz really was a sobering thought.

"Une is just gonna have to get over it. Let her get a little mad, she isn't the one sacrificing life, limb and hair over this shit, is she?" Duo said bitterly. He didn't have anything against Colonel Une personally, hell he hardly even knew the woman. It was just that he was a little miffed that, once again, he and Heero and the other pilots were risking life and limb for a cause they didn't really even effect their daily lives.

"You know what gets me... after this is all over, Une will get to relax and chill in her office chair. Everyone will be safe from violence again, but you and me we'll be off fighting another underground enemy. Sometimes I wish someone else would show up. Someone young and capable, with a suit better than mine was, who is better at piloting and fighting. Let them deal with it. I wonder if that was how Howard felt when he heard of us, or how the Doctors felt when they were sending us off to the war... " He was thinking out loud, something he never really did. He felt comfortable doing it with Heero. He didn't have to joke or pretend to be happy, or crack a smile whenever the other pilot looked at him.

It was a lot like how being with Solo used to be.

.

Nodding, Heero closed his eyes and listened to the ship hum around them. With the wars over, there were no new recruits coming to fill in the front lines and take their places. They all knew that. Heero figured that was probably half the reason ESUN made Une keep such a close eye on them; they existed to stop more wars from starting.

The Japanese agent snorted softly into Duo's hair. He couldn't imagine himself or the other pilots at fifty or sixty, sitting around Preventers headquarters and arguing over military history. Hell, he couldn't see himself at thirty. The entire concept was foreign to him.

"So we'll suppress this latest resistance movement and then disappear," he murmured thoughtfully. "Just pack up and drop off the grid." If anyone could become a virtually non-existent entity, it was a Gundam pilot with a grudge. Heero knew it was foolish, but he wanted an end to the missions and paperwork and incessant government oversight. For starters, if Une even suspected that Azrael and Dumah's professional relationship had progressed beyond the bounds of company policy... "Une will separate us, if she suspects," Heero said aloud. He tightened his arms around his partner's slender waist reflexively.

It seemed that everyone nowadays was suspect and paranoia reigned supreme in Heero's life. He trusted the American pilot, and perhaps his brother-certainly, the other pilots. Beyond that small circle, however...

There was only so many years that a soldier could run on adrenaline and stress before collapsing. Everything had a breaking point. Heero knew without a doubt that he was rapidly approaching his. It was too much responsibility, too much danger, and to much risk, and he knew damned well that his attachment to Duo had brought all of that sharply into focus for the first time in his life.

Maybe it was time to let someone else save the world. "I want to retire," he sighed.

.

Duo smirked at the thought of Heero 'retiring'. He imagined the Japanese pilot wrinkled with age, sitting on the front porch of a nursing home, molesting hot nurses as they walked by. He almost chuckled to himself at how improbable the idea was.

"Hm... retire? From what? Being a pilot? Seriously, you'll never be able to. None of us can, we are what we are. I just wanna fight my own wars, and my own problems. I would like to be a cop or something. That way I can still help people, but get some immediate satisfaction from the shit. Stop the robber, so he can't rob my house next. What good is stopping this organization now? Seriously? I mean, if anything, we should be joining up with them. That would have a better pay off for me, rather than fight 'em till we're bloody and then return to pushing paperwork? I guess my mind is in the wrong place." He closed his eyes and leaned back into Heero, shivering a little at the feeling of the other pilot's hot breath against the back of his neck.

"I don't care what anyone thinks anymore. I don't care what side I'm fighting on as long as I am fighting for something I want to fight for. I thought I wanted to fight for the ESUN... but now with them treating us like psychopaths and criminals I am not so sure anymore..." he dropped his voice, as if someone were listening through a door. He peered around the darkened cargo unit as if at any moment a swat team was going to descend upon him and arrest him for his next words, "if I wasn't part of the 'good guys', I could see myself being sucked into a revolution. So, when the ESUN meant to keep tabs on us by employing us... I guess there was something to that."

.

Heero chuckled at his partner's stage whisper and leaned back against the wall of the cargo hold, pulling the other agent with him. Join the resistance, indeed. Heero wasn't particularly interested in fighting on behalf of another colonial rebellion. The first time he had made enough mistakes to compound the conflict three times over. No, despite his wishes he would crush this rebel faction, contain the threat, and spend the next few years of his life sifting through piles of paperwork in Brussels.

The Gundam pilots were like Christmas trees. Pull them out of a dusty closet once a year, celebrate their existence, and then stuff them back into that dark closet until they were needed again. It was a sad state of affairs.

"Why not become a police officer, then?" he asked quietly. He and Duo had never really discussed their plans for their 'futures' because they had known after the second war that their lives were not their own to plan. The scrapyard had been a good project for Duo, but Heero couldn't really envision the other man spending his life there. Heero couldn't see himself spending the rest of his life pushing papers and training Preventers agents, either.

The Japanese pilot had been trained to one purpose, and that was warfare. Mundane, daily life seemed so insignificant by comparison of the battles in which he'd fought, the missions he'd accomplished, that he doubted he would ever be complacent with a desk job, vacation time, and water-cooler gossip. Fighting gave him a purpose, but he was beginning to tire even of that.

What did interest him? Piloting, obviously. Digital intelligence, certainly. Hand-to-hand combat, definitely. But outside of the realm of military training he'd received, there were really only a few things that Heero could genuinely say he found interesting. Dogs. Guns. Okay, maybe that was part of his training, too. Wing's pilot leaned forward slightly and kissed his partner's neck, just behind the man's ear. Duo. He was very much invested in Duo Maxwell.

There wasn't a career choice that Heero could think of that involved dogs, guns, and his best friend, with the exception of the Preventers' tactical enforcement division. Maybe the 'cop' idea wasn't such a bad one after all?

"If we get through this mission, we should ask Une to let us train new recruits in the tactical unit," he said sincerely. "We would be training our own replacements. We could bring Solo with us. That would make a difference, wouldn't it?" Sitting in the cold cargo hold of a beat-up Preventers ship, it seemed like the best idea that either one of them had come up with in days.

.

"Fuck..." Duo said quietly as he shuddered when Heero kissed him. When did Heero Yuy become such a charmer? He playfully elbowed the other pilot in the side and squirmed, trying his best not to jostle the other pilot's healing gunshot wound on his thigh. "Tactical training would be too fucking fun. Let's hope we make it through this shit alive, huh?"

He chuckled and squeezed his partner's upper arm. "We technically are going out, right? Does this mean I can to call you a pet name or something? Hmmm..." He grinned and hesitated before saying in his most obnoxiously high pitched-voice, "Hee-channn?"

He couldn't stop laughing. Especially when Heero squeezed him roughly in retaliation. He cackled loudly, his voice echoing off of the cold metal walls, "Stop it, Heee-channn!"

.

Solo stared out through the main window of their shuttle and tried to focus on the starfield around him. Those two had been back in that cargo hold for a long time, now.

His mind wondered in an entirely unproductive way for several minutes before he ground his teeth together and flipped the ship off of autopilot. Taking the controls manually was a decent distraction. He should have been worried about those thirty-odd suits sitting on that resource satellite, or the fact that several of his Sweepers had been directly involved in the damned project, but all he could think about was the way Duo had glared daggers at him back in the hangar. Shit, was he sexy when he was mad.

Chuckling darkly to himself, Solo was considering contacting that Chang kid a bit early with news of their find when he heard a whining, high-pitched squeal from the cargo hold. What the fuck...?

Solo waited a moment, tried to figure out just what had made that ear-splitting noise, and then it happened again, only this time it was distinctly Duo's laughing voice, and he was screaming a butchered version of the Wing pilot's name. Solo growled at the instrument cluster in front of him, shouting. "Would you two twits quit dicking around back there and act like you're fucking Preventers, for space's sake?"

He didn't really expect a response. Duo was probably laughing at him-that insolent little bastard-and 'Ro had most likely instigated whatever had inspired the now-braidless moron to scream like a girl in the first place.

'Hee-chan,' huh? Solo grinned mischievously at the L2 Colony Cluster looming on the horizon. Yeah, his brother was never going to live that shit down.

Kids these days...


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN  
>[Day 11] L2 Colony Cluster, Maxwell Scrap.<p>

Duo had contacted Hilde that morning and had snuck out to visit her before the other agents woke up. He had left them snoozing in the makeshift sleeping quarters made of the second storage room.

He had explained to the woman that he would need to use the scrapyard for a week or so, and that she wouldn't have to bother coming in. He shot the breeze with her, told her he was doing a mission but failed to mention anything in great detail about the resource satellite, the mobile suits he had seen, or the fact that Solo was still alive and kicking.

Duo liked Hilde. He had begun a casual relationship with the woman right after the Eve Wars, but nothing serious ever came of it. She was a good friend to him. It was easy to talk to her. She had been in the wars so she was pretty sympathetic and understanding about his feelings. She would have been a great girlfriend. If Duo had to think of himself as settled with a house and kids, he wouldn't have been able to picture it with anyone but her.

But that life wasn't for him. She had never demanded that of him, but he knew deep down that she was tired of violence. She wanted to enjoy the calm and peace that the ESUN had to offer. He wanted her to have those things. So, when he was sent off to work for the Preventers, he had left her on L2 to run the shop. He had given her 50% ownership of the company. He had wanted to give her more, but she wouldn't accept it.

That morning he had met her in the park and they had walked to the coffee shop. For an hour he had pretended that he wasn't about to embark on a dangerous undercover operation. He sipped a coffee with her on the patio of the shop while she lectured him about how rude it was of him to call her and give her orders without any decent explanations. She also told him she missed his long hair, but that she liked the way he looked now. She had grabbed his head, styled it a few times, and then gave up when the mess fell back its normal place around his eyes and face. She told him about Joe and his travels, about the things she had heard on the news, and about how creeped out she was that Zechs Merquise had been murdered. He couldn't tell her all that he knew, so he had to sit quietly while she demanded that he be safe and be armed and be careful, in case the murderer snatched him up next.

While she grilled him he just smiled at her. Hilde was a great person, and he hoped she would find someone who treated her well. If anyone hurt her, he would kill them.

Once they had eaten their cinnamon rolls and chugged their coffees he walked her home and then returned to the scrapyard with a large stash of extra goodies under his arm: muffins, donuts, scones... anything baked and sugary that one could imagine. He stomped into the main room and announced cheerfully, "GOOD MORNING SUNSHINES!" And then slammed a large thermos of dark coffee on the counter.

.

Heero rolled out of his cot, gun in hand, and about shot his brother, who had apparently done the same thing at precisely the same time. Two sets of bleary cobalt eyes assessed their targets, then lowered their guns slowly. Where the hell had that yelling come from?

Wing's pilot pushed his back to the wall beside the doorway, Solo on the other side, and the older man nodded twice towards the open doorway. Heero understood. Taking point, he swung around the corner, .45 first, and aimed at...

Coffee?

Solo ran into him as he followed sharply through the doorway, knocking the Japanese agent forward a step, and Heero turned to glare at him over his shoulder. That obnoxious wake up call had to have been his partner. That idiot was going to get himself killed, one of these days. Determining idly that the thermos of coffee was not a direct threat, Heero sagged down into a nearby desk chair, scratching the back of his head with is loaded sidearm. Solo grabbed another chair, turning it around backwards before straddling it and letting his head fall down against the tabletop. His arms hung limply at his sides.

Duo was digging through a bag of what Heero suspected were high-sugar, low-protein pastry things that the American often referred to as 'breakfast.' They normally made Heero's teeth hurt, so he avoided them at all costs. Solo spoke up beside him, talking directly into the table and yawning in the process. "So when are we contacting that asshole Chang? We have to report back on what happened yesterday, right?"

.

Duo had thought that they may have reacted negatively to his wake-up call. So when the two stumbled in with guns blazing he wasn't entirely surprised, just prepared to duck, just in case one of them was still dreaming.

"Hey-hey!" He said brightly as he fished out a blueberry muffin bigger than his fist. He set it on the table in front of Heero and smiled. Then he grabbed a donut from inside, bit into it with gusto, and then pushed the rest of the bag at Solo, bumping the older agent's downturned head in the process.

At the mention of Chang, Duo's warm and cheery demeanor chilled about twenty degrees. "Hm... Chang, huh?" He stared at the donut and suddenly began to feel less than hungry. "Maybe we can send him a nice, friendly e-mail?"

Duo wasn't too thrilled on seeing Chang again. He never seemed to mesh well with the guy. He knew Wufei thought he was an incompetent idiot. Duo didn't much care what Wufei personally felt, but the guy's opinion of him always managed to come out in conversation. Or in report. Hell, they couldn't even pass each other in the hall without Chang scowling in greeting.

He began busying himself with pouring coffee into three styrofoam cups. He slid one in front of each agent before chugging contentedly at his own. It would be his third cup in less than two hours.

.

Heero stared at the muffin thoughtfully. "E-mails can be intercepted. We should meet with him in person. The other pilots should probably be called in, as well."

Beside him, Solo had begun prowling through the bag of bakery goods, setting aside small piles of things. Heero snorted. His brother appeared to have retained some of his food hoarding tendencies from growing up on the streets. "It's not going anywhere," he said quietly. Solo glared at him and pocketed several danishes before announcing that he was going to, "Wash his ass, and you fuckers had better not flush the toilet 'til I'm done."

Heero drank his coffee, and then he finished Solo's before going to retrieve his laptop. He set it up on the table beside Duo and began patching a secured direct line to Chang's office. As his fingers moved over the worn keyboard, Wing's pilot wondered idly if the plants in his own office had died yet. It was such a random thought that when Chang's serious face appeared on his screen he was momentarily startled. "Yuy, this had better not be bad news."

Duo snickered beside him. "Good morning to you, too, Chang," Heero deadpanned. "If by bad news you mean that we made visual confirmation of at least thirty newly-designed and manufactured MS, then that's an affirmative." His sense of humor, as sardonic and flat as it was, had been heavily influenced by his partner, who was chuckling to his right. The Japanese agent hoped Chang could not hear him.

"That's what we were afraid of," the Chinese man scowled. "We'll need to set a rendezvous point and discuss this. There's no need for reports. We'll have to discuss parameters in person." Heero nodded. "Is that it?"

Wing's pilot hesitated. "Negative. I confirmed a new OS, as well. It appears to be modified from a pre-existing OS that increases mental instability and volatility in pilots." The look on Chang's face-speechless and shocked-told Heero that the other Preventer knew exactly which system he was referencing. Dark eyes stared piercingly through the screen for a moment before Chang sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.

"Great. Just great." He shook his head. "Rendezvous point will be the facility on L3. I want this discussed as far from L2 as possible." Heero interpreted that to mean the Preventers field office in the L3 Colony Cluster. That trip would take them at least two days.

"Roger that," Heero murmured before terminating the line. He sat back in his chair and stared at the blank laptop screen for a while, before turning to Duo. "I don't think he'll be terribly pleased when we tell him about the salvaged Gundam technology."

.

"Yeah, 'prolly not." Duo said quietly as he licked the glaze from the second donut he had inhaled from the tips of his fingers. "But really, is there anything that you could say that would 'terribly please' Chang Wufei?"

He grinned and poured Heero another cup of coffee idly before slouching low in his chair, his long and skinny legs outstretched as far as they could go. Duo enjoyed space, and he filled as much of it with himself as possible.

He propped his arms up behind his head and sighed, "went to see Hilde this morning. Told her you were here, too. I think she knows." He waggled his eyebrows and laughed. "She said hi. And told me to give it to ya good."

He had taken off his hair band and was smoothing out the back of his newly-shortened, thick chestnut hair with his fingertips. Quickly, as if he had changed his mind about playing with his hair, he dropped his arms and leaned over to grab Heero around his neck and kissed him on the jawline. He wanted to take the opportunity to get some affection in before Solo showed up. He felt strange doing anything in front of his former childhood friend. He didn't like the smile Solo always got when Duo did or said anything suggestive.

"Eat your fucking muffin, Yuy." He whispered playfully into Heero's ear as he loosened one of his arms from his death-grip around the Japanese pilot's neck to place his hand firmly on the other man's flat, muscular stomach. "You're getting skinny. Didn't you know I'm a chubby chaser? Here, you better have two..."

.

Heero frowned and lifted the hem of his tee shirt to inspect his own stomach. Skinny? "I have an acceptable body fat index for my age and height," he said flatly. "And what is a 'chubby chaser'?" He wondered if it was anything like 'boinking.'

Duo's hair was loose around his face and it looked... odd. It wasn't a bad sort of odd, but it definitely wasn't what Heero was used to. He wondered what the other pilots would say when they saw it. He still felt a little guilty about talking his partner into hacking it off, but after a gunshot wound to the thigh and his still-sore knuckles, he figured they were even now. He was nothing if not equitable.

Duo's sudden affection didn't phase him as much as it probably should have, but he was well beyond overanalyzing their unconventional relationship. He let the hem of his shirt go and slid an arm around his partner's waist. The Deathscythe pilot's violet gaze kept sliding in the direction of the yard's tiny bathroom and Heero snorted. "Tell me you aren't doing this just to piss him off?"

There was a strange tension between his best friend and his brother with which the Japanese agent wasn't entirely comfortable. Solo tended to leer at Duo quite a bit, touch him whenever the opportunity presented itself, and for his part the other L2 colonist seemed to be intrigued by the attention almost as much as he outwardly fought it off.

So maybe Heero was just a stand-in for Duo's long-time hangup over his not-dead childhood friend? Wing's pilot was almost sure that he could handle that. He was a tool, after all. The American pilot's affection was probably more of a bonus than anything he'd gotten from J, the colonies, ESUN, or Preventers.

.

Duo smirked at Heero's anaylsis of his own body weight and leaned his weight against the other pilot's shoulder, his arm still wrapped around the other pilot's neck.

"Huh... what?" He blinked furiously and looked away from the bathroom to Heero. "I don't care if he gets pissed." Which was true. He just felt weird. He couldn't explain it to himself, let alone to the other pilot, so he wasn't going to try. "Hey, if you're opposed to me feeling you up I'll stop."

He grinned widely and quickly, playfully rubbed his hand against the Japanese pilot's messy mop of brown hair. His sudden stirring of it didn't change it's placement in the least.

"Maybe I'll grope you in front of Chang. I wonder what he'd do..." Duo teased, his eyes glistening with pure deviousness.

.

Heero glared at his partner. "You will in no way, shape, or form insinuate or confirm that our relationship is anything more than professional in front of Chang or Une," he growled. "The Colonel will split us up. You know that."

That was the last thing he needed-being saddled with some other idiot partner. Wing's pilot tightened the arm he had slung around Duo's waist and brooded silently. A few minutes later, Solo came sauntering out of the bathroom, towel over his head, wearing nothing but boxer briefs and eying Duo speculatively.

That was the last straw for the Japanese agent. He got up abruptly from the table, closed the distance between himself and his brother, and punched the man square in the jaw. Solo didn't crumple to the ground, but then again Heero hadn't really expected him to. They had matching genetic enhancements. His injured fist stung horribly, but he felt better. Without a word, he stormed past the stunned Sweeper and into the back room.

He needed to get off of this damned colony and out of close quarters from the both of them. It was driving him crazy and distracting him from the very serious situation they'd left on that resource satellite. Or maybe he just couldn't stand the way his brother looked at Duo and he wasn't sure how to deal with it.

None of this was part of his experience or training. Once they met up with Chang...

Once they met up with Chang, debriefed from their recent mission, and had some form of working strategy for the next phase of the plan, Heero was going to request to be assigned independently of Solo. While he trusted the man innately, he knew that they had such drastically different methodologies that partnering up with him-and Duo-was a disaster waiting to happen.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN  
>[Day 12] En Route to L3 Colony Cluster<p>

Duo sighed and closed one of the last of many open windows he had been mulling over on Heero's laptop. The trip to L3 seemed to drag on forever, and the tension between Heero and Solo wasn't helping.

Ever since the day before, when Heero had punched Solo square in the face in a seemingly random act of violence, the two super soldiers hadn't spoken a word to one another.

Duo had tried to talk to both of them. He bounced back and forth, tried to make jokes, tried to break the ice... but it was no use. Those two were stubborn as shit, and neither would relent.

So Duo had decided that nosing through the data that Solo had collected about mobile suits and the plans of the Hathcock Project would serve as a decent distraction while the other two brooded and pouted on opposite sides of the command bridge.

"You know," he said quietly into the air, not entirely directing the statement at either of the two in particular, "There is a lot of stolen data here. I mean, seriously. They have Deathscythe's hyper jammer fuses. They probably have technology from the other suits, too. What was that shit with the operating system, Heero? Was that some sort of ZERO system modification?"

Duo wondered how the resistance group had gotten a hold of ZERO technology? It was a hard science to replicate, and they would have needed test subjects. Perhaps there were still people from Rommerfeller floating around, willing to give out the secrets of ZERO for a price? What if they got their hands on Epyon somehow?

The thought of a super-powered modern version of Epyon careening through outer space to kill the people of Earth made Duo's skin crawl. That suit was ridiculously good.

.

Heero darted a glance over at his brother, who was steadfastly ignoring him and focusing on the controls, and turned in the co-pilot's chair to look back at his partner. That system had been... wrong. "ZERO never once blatantly ignored or disobeyed an order I gave my suit. But it also didn't make decisions for me. It merely gave me options, the probability of success for each of those options, and disregarded both my safety and the risk of casualties among others. This new system is feeding information directly from the radar, external cameras, and the suit itself. It must be some type of artificial intelligence, because it only backed down when I shouted at it."

Wing's pilot was still a bit irritated that he had lost his temper like that and shouted at an algorithm. Granted, it was probably the most complex and sophisticated algorithm he'd ever encountered, but it was still just a bit-series on some level. AI, no matter how impressive, was still governed by a set of rules and could never be as adaptable, creative, or unorthodox as a human pilot's mind, and Heero often did some incredibly stupid things in combat. But he did them for a reason.

"It could have been built from ZERO's programming, but the resistance group has decided to give the operating system ultimate control over what happens to those suits, as long as they're using weak-minded pilots. It's most likely a way for them to ensure those Aequitas suits don't get damaged or destroyed because of piloting errors. I don't think they were expecting well-qualified pilots to volunteer for their cause."

Heero brooded some more. If those thirty suits were equipped with that AI, then what the hell would the fifteen newer suits come with?

.

Solo snorted softly to himself as he stared at the blackness of space in front of him. Sounded like his baby brother was scared of a computer. He decided not to voice that little tidbit of thought aloud-his baby brother had a wicked right hook.

The Sweeper knew damned well why Heero had socked him in the face that morning, even if Duo was too stupid or oblivious to figure it out. He'd been leering at the younger soldier's partner again, and Heero had developed one hell of a possessive streak when it came to the loudmouthed American. That was a match made in fucking Hell, in Solo's opinion. What in space could Heero possibly see in that kid?

Solo understood Duo on a much more primal level. While those two were discussing suits and operating systems and other shit, Solo found that he really couldn't have cared less about speculation. He wanted to get this 'mission' over with so that he wasn't on Preventers' payroll and he was his own man again. Blow up the satellite, kill all the bad guys, grab Duo, and disappear back on L2 somewhere. What wonder-boy Yuy decided to do with his fucked-up existence after that was none of his concern.

It didn't feel like they were siblings. Solo honestly wasn't too sure what the hell that felt like, but he didn't feel any mystical connection to the dangerous Japanese pilot. That kid had a volatile temper and an even worse attitude problem, and Solo was almost certain by now that he himself would have made the better pilot for Wing. The younger agent was just too unstable.

That was all in the past, though. Nothing to be done about it now. At least he could still convince Duo to ditch the robot and leave with him, when this was all said and done. The ship's main monitor beeped loudly, signaling that they were being hailed by someone nearby, and Solo gave the other agents a warning glance before answering the vidcall. Through the grainy feed they saw Noah's smiling face. That little fucker was just too damned happy about starting a war. Really. It was creeping Solo out, big-time.

"Sergeant Yuy," he greeted the older man. "I noticed your shuttle in the area. I have something for Ritter and Johnson. We've decided to allow Ritter to fly our newer model. I believe his talents would be wasted on the Aequitas, but in order to integrate more fully with the Veritas model he will need to become familiar with its computer."

Solo was rapidly keying in the coordinates for MO-49573 as Noah spoke. That kid was going to give them a copy of the operating system for the new suit models? Fuck working hard and snooping around! This was brilliant! "We should dock in ten minutes," Solo said, trying valiantly not to sound too eager.

Noah waved a hand dismissively. "Don't bother. We have a ship en route to you. You should be contacted in the next several minutes. I don't have to tell you to be extremely careful with the system. It doesn't have the ability to communicate back to our location yet, but I want Johnson to work on a way to program that ability in so that we can check in on our pilots. He has full permission to modify it however he sees fit."

With a last nod to Solo, the connection went dead, and the Sweeper reached up to turn off the monitor. This was some crazy shit.

.

Duo stared at the screen as it went dead. He was impressed that they were going to get them on mobile suits so quickly. They must have been desperate for formidable pilots. He didn't blame them for wanting to get use out of Heero so quickly. Hell, he would be the same way if he found out that some random guy could override their top of the line OS in simulation.

At the prospect of being able to modify any of the systems was fascinating to Duo. He enjoyed working with mobile suits, and especially the operating systems- the lifeblood of the suit. His palms itched with anticipation.

"So much for trying to hunt down these elite suits, huh?" He said brightly before propping his boots up onto the control panel confidently. "And they are trusting ME to modify them to keep tabs on the suit? Heh. Maybe I could rig it to tell them that the suit is safely in the shuttle, when in reality it is halfway to Jupiter. What do you say, Heero? Modify." He couldn't help but laugh. This was going to be too fun.

Ever since he had joined the Preventers he had nothing but spare time. He had worked with Hilde on the scrapyard project, but he had lots of nights free. He had filled them with updated online classes, paid for by the ESUN, on computer sciences and programming. This knowledge, on top of his own personal and intimate knowledge of the Gundams, made him pretty decent at toying around with all things coded.

Hacker was such a harsh term. He liked to consider himself a 'citizen of the network'.

"This kid Noah is really dumb, or he is setting us up for something." Duo said suspiciously, the thought suddenly coming to him like a fat kid to an ice cream truck. He looked over at Heero and set his hand companionably on his shoulder. "You gonna be okay piloting these things? They might be even more intense than the other ones... what with them being special models."

.

Heero nodded quietly. It did seem fairly improbable that they would be handed highly-sensitive and sophisticated technology like the Veritas operating system. There had to be a catch. They would certainly have to check the OS' encoding to ensure that whatever computer they loaded it onto wasn't giving away their location or transmitting any information about them.

"We'll scan the programming for suspicious encoding," he said. "I don't want to underestimate the enemy too quickly. He can't be that stupid if he's working for Lowe." His former mentor certainly hadn't tolerated anything less than brilliance from Heero; the Japanese pilot couldn't imagine the man's standards having changed that drastically in a little over a decade.

There was a crackle of static over the vidcom line and then an unfamiliar voice was requesting permission to dock with their shuttle. Solo granted it with a friendly 'affirmative,' and then there was a metallic grating noise from the side of the ship. The hatch decompressed quickly. Warily, Heero watched from beside his partner's chair as a young woman in a Sweepers uniform boarded their ship and smiled cheerfully at them. Heero frowned. These terrorists were far too perky for his liking.

"Ritter?" she asked brightly. Her ponytail floated loosely behind her, much like Duo's braid had done. Heero stepped forward cautiously. She beamed at him, despite the obvious frown on his face. "Noah said that this is your new OS unit." She dug around in the backpack she'd brought, then produced a vaguely volleyball-looking sphere and handed it to Wing's pilot. "Take good care of it. It doesn't require recharging, but try to keep it away from direct solar radiation exposure. Otherwise they tend to get a little... irritated." She chewed her lip thoughtfully, gazing with wide brown eyes at the ball now in Heero's hands, and then recovered her hundred-watt smile. "Noah will contact you again once he requires your presence for training with the Veritas fleet. Have a great day!"

And then she was back through the pressure lock and her shuttle was disengaging from the docking area, heading back towards MO-49573. "What the hell was that about?" Solo was muttering. He'd turned the ship over to the autopilot and swiveled around to inspect the sphere in Heero's hands.

The Japanese pilot glared down at it. How in space was this an operating system? It looked like a recreational item, or a child's toy. It was a garish neon orange in color, metal, and had several seems along its sides. Heero held it in one hand, rapped it with the knuckles of his other, and then tossed it to Duo with a roll of his eyes. "That's not an operating system," he snorted. "It's a bowling ball."

.

Duo's eyes widened as the orange ball came floating gently in his direction.

"No... fucking way." He grabbed the ball from the air and turned it over in his hands once. "It can't be."

He had heard about these from Howard. In the past the operating systems of mobile suits had been transferred to robots, which were sometimes used as portable assistants to pilots. If he wasn't mistaken, this was one of those things.

He flipped it in his hands then reached down and touched the seam gently. It seemed fused together.

"I think this is a HARO unit."

Just as soon as he had said the word "HARO' the two adjacent dots on the surface of the ball flickered. Two circular panels flapped wildly on either side of the ball, revealing a pinkish interior with coiled arms.

"HARO. HARO. HARO." It said loudly, its voice somewhat childlike and piercing. "HARO. REQUESTING USER. REQUESTING USER."

Duo grinned and turned the ball over in its hands as it flapped around. "So fucking cool. I can't believe they have these." He looked up at Heero and grinned. "Man. I am gonna have fun playing with this!" He pushed off out of his seat and floated with the wriggling ball over to the wall and grabbed an ethernet cord and reached inside one of the flaps to plug it into a small port he had spotted inside. Just as soon as he did the Haro was interfaced with the computer. Its controls popped up the screen. He carefully allowed it access, making sure it wasn't retrieving any sensitive data or sending out a tracking beacon. Once it was in the clear began poking around in its commands.

"I wonder if they are going to use the Haro on top of the OS they are developing. If that is the case, then there is hardly any need for a pilot. Unless, the new OS on those elite suits has some sort of crazy psychokinetic reader or something..."

It all seemed so farfetched and different. Duo supposed he shouldn't be too skeptical about how crazy the technology was. That was just the nature of the technology. Things improved and changed faster than the average person could learn them.

"HARO. HARO... USER REQUIRED. ACQUIRED IDENTITY. JOHN RITTER."

The Haro twitched and wobbled, flapping its circular ears cheerfully. Duo smiled and peered over his shoulder at Heero. "Nice and obnoxious, huh? Heero, meet your new partner."

.

New partner?

Heero pushed himself off of the hatch door and stopped behind Duo, using his partner to slow his momentum. He looked over the other agent's shoulder cautiously as the ball twittered and made random digital noises. It had eyes, and... ears? Heero had never heard of a Haro unit. He didn't know what function it was supposed to serve or how it integrated with the OS of the Veritas suits. More importantly, Noah had said... "Duo, I think this IS the operating system."

It was sort of... cute. In an aesthetic and entirely unbiased way. He reached around the American pilot to prod one of the unit's ear-flaps gently. "How does it know my name?" he asked softly. For the first time in several days, being in such close proximity to his partner felt completely natural, and his interest in the Haro was taking priority in his thoughts. It was a welcomed change of pace.

"And the only psychokinetic interface I've ever used was the one OZ made to test the ZERO System on me." He paused, then leaned closer to whisper into Duo's ear. "Is it safe to discuss sensitive information in front of it?" he asked quickly, eying the happily whirring unit suspiciously. Its black eyes blinked up at him innocently. This was ridiculous. It was a machine, not a person. Heero chewed his lower lip habitually.

.

Duo chuckled as Heero poked the Haro gingerly.

"It knows your name because I told it. It won't know anything unless I tell it through the module." He pointed to the computer and smiled. "I can customize everything from here. It isn't capable of transmitting or recording data right now. I just deactivated that. So it should be okay."

The Haro blinked its lighted eyes and tilted back and forth as if it were dancing. Duo looked from the unit to Heero, wondering if the pilot was really that transfixed with the thing. Was Heero Yuy a sucker for cute things? Duo smirked and turned back to the computer to browse through the Haro's commands and capabilities. The thing had a lot of data, and it would take a long while for him to see everything. He scrolled through it quickly.

"Aim assistance. Communication device. Telecomm. Research capabilities. It can completely control your weapons, just by giving it coordinates. Looks like if you tell it what to lock on to, it will trail on to it automatically, and will take control of the suit and position it for optimal aiming. Useful little fucker, huh? He should be able to dock to the mobile suit. At least that was what Howard used to talk about. Apparently the first Gundam ever built had something like this."

Duo looked over at Solo and smiled. Ever since Heero had decked the guy he felt a little bad for being so mean to him. It wasn't fair that they were both attacking the guy at the same time with negativity. He figured he would just ignore his advances- he wasn't interested - and be cordial like he always was to everyone else.

The Haro wiggled again, then blinked and said loudly, "JOHN RITTER. RITTER. RITTER."

Duo snickered and furiously typed something into the command prompt. The Haro blinked, paused, and then said, "HEE-CHAN. HEE-CHAN."

.

Heero smacked his friend across the back of the head soundly. "Fix it or I smash it," he growled. Of all the stupid damned nicknames that his idiot partner could concoct...

The OS unit-Haro, Heero mentally corrected himself-was chirping happily up at him. "And turn its volume down, while you're at it. That thing could give away our position all the way back on Earth." Wing's pilot reached past Duo and deactivated the data sync between Haro and the computer terminal. He unplugged it carefully, picked it up like a million-credit crystal vase, and held it to his chest protectively. He didn't want Duo programming it to do anything else ridiculous before they met with Chang, Une, and the other pilots.

Blue eyes glanced from the contentedly whirring ball in his arms to his partner, and Heero frowned. Maybe he was being too harsh towards the American pilot. Duo was probably excited about the new technology, not being purposefully malicious. Heero sighed. "I'm sorry that I hit you," he said quietly. He didn't need his brother overhearing and considering it a sign of weakness.

More loudly than necessary, Heero addressed Duo-and by proxy, Solo-while Haro seemed happy to blink at the interior of the ship and bob its small metal ears around. It almost seemed unbelievable that something so innocuous-looking was capable of taking complete control of an integrated mobile suit weapons system. Stranger things, however, had happened in the past two weeks. "We should reach the rendezvous point in the next few hours. What exactly are we relaying to the Preventers?"

There were certain parts of their infiltration that Heero would personally rather not mention in front of Une-Lowe's presence, Noah's wish that the Japanese agent pilot the new Veritas suit instead of the Aequitas, and the fact that he and his partner had murdered two people. He was also damned sure that Solo would mention something about Heero and Duo's... more than professional relationship.

He was surprised when Solo spoke up from the pilot's chair. "I won't say anything unless you two agree to it first," he said slowly. He was grudgingly cooperating. Heero was almost shocked. "I know we got off on a bad note but I want to help. Sweepers are my area of expertise, but I want to stay a Preventer." He glanced over his shoulder at the other two pilots. "And I trust you two. No one else. I think to avoid a lot of awkward questions and 'super soldier' bullshit, we should tell your boss about us being related, but that's it. They don't need details, and I sure as shit ain't giving them any more info than we need to complete this mission."

Heero nodded. Maybe Solo wasn't so bad after all. In his arms, Haro beeped quietly and wiggled back and forth. It almost seemed that the unit could detect the Wing pilot's moods, or perhaps his pulse rate and brain activity. Odd. "Agreed. I also think that we should keep our conversation with Noah about my piloting the Veritas to a minimum. I want to see what that suit can do, and how advanced the resistance's technology is in case that isn't their entire fleet."

Solo snorted from the bridge. "I'd stake my dick on it," he drawled. "That kid's smarter than he looks. And that Lowe guy just fucking exuded confidence and capability." Heero glanced sideways at his partner but kept his mouth shut. Solo didn't know his mentor's first name, so Une and the rest of Preventers would have no reason to suspect the connection. Good. Heero wanted to corner the man and get his own answers before hauling him in for questioning.

"We tell them the bare minimum and request assistance only in an emergency situation. If Preventers gets too close to this whole operation someone will slip up and blow our cover. This is serious," Heero said flatly. "But I trust the other pilots. They will be our primary backup if anything deviates from the plan, but I estimate that if something goes wrong we'll be in more trouble than they can dig us out of."

Haro made a mournful chirp and blinked up at Heero. Solo nodded sourly. "You'll have to introduce me to these other kids. And they know that I didn't actually murder Merquise, right?"

A frown tugged at the corner of the Japanese pilot's mouth. "Actually, I don't know." He looked to Duo. "Did Une inform the others about Jackson's guilt?"

.

Duo shrugged and looked from Solo to Heero before saying slowly, "I'm really not sure. We'll know when or if Trowa tries to pop a cap in his ass."

He pushed off away from the computer terminal he had been using to prepare the Haro for Heero and landed on the opposite wall nimbly. "You know, now that I have identified you as the Haro's user, you can just tell it whatever you want to do. It should have voice commands. Right, Haro? Do you understand?"

The Haro bobbled in Heero's grasp. "HARO UNDERSTAND. HARO USER JOHN RITTER."

"See." Duo said confidently, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. Then he put finger to his chin and thought on the topic of the mysterious rebel lackey Noah.

"That Noah kid. I just don't understand him. He seems like he is more in charge than the 'Commander' guy, Odin, doesn't he?" Duo had met some pretty fucked up people in the wars, and they normally fit the same description over and over again. If someone was the leader of something they wanted to chew your ear off about their cause, and why they're doing what they are doing, and who the enemy is. Especially if they are trying to recruit you. Noah hardly said anything to them about the cause, and the guy wasn't even present when they performed their 'trust' task of killing the innocents.

Hell, they could have been killed by Solo for all that kid knew. Then, when Odin Lowe, the apparent leader of the group, showed up... not a damn word.

Duo had almost been disappointed that the guy hadn't rubbed his hands together wickedly, cackled and tried to convince them to join the cause.

Something was up. They were building freaky suits, looking desperately for pilots, and now entrusting two guys they hardly knew with the OS for the apparent new suits.

"Feels like we're being set up," Duo said speculatively as he rubbed the side of his head, trying to manually sort out all of the thought he had just raced through his mind.

.

Heero patted Haro's 'head' speculatively as he mulled over his partner's words. It did seem odd that a man as young as Noah was calling the shots for such an elaborate undertaking, except that Duo and Solo really knew nothing about Lowe. His mentor had been a hired assassin for OZ for years before his 'death,' and if Noah and the Hathcock Project had offered him enough money, Heero had no doubts at all that Lowe would have accepted the position of organizer, commander, and leader of a colonial resistance. The man seemed to have no political loyalties whatsoever."Maybe," he said quietly, "Or maybe we don't have enough information yet. Hopefully Chang and the others will be able to recover more data on Noah, and his organization. We'll also need you two to comb through the Sweepers' information to pull potential dissenters, as well as anyone whose face you recognize from our tour of that resource satellite."

The sphere in his arms chirped suddenly. "UNIDENTIFIED ENEMY SHIP APPROACHING. UNIDENTIFIED ENEMY SHIP APPROACHING. ALERT, JOHN RITTER. ALERT, JOHN RITTER."

Wing's pilot gave Duo a questioning glance before moving to look over his brother's shoulder at their ship's radar. The only shuttle near theirs had a Preventers-designated identification tag. It was probably one of the other pilots on his way to the L3 rendezvous point. Heero shook his head. This was going to be a problem.

"Disregard, Haro," he said gently, then handed the unit off to Duo. "Can you alter his programming so that he doesn't recognize every Preventer we know as a threat when we get near the others? I know that the ID tags of ships designate which organization they belong to, and he seems to have his own built-in radar, but I don't know if he has voice or facial recognition databases." Heero smirked slightly. "Chang would probably break it if it identified him as an enemy."

.

Duo took the Haro with a grin and nodded before tucking it casually under his arm. He glanced over at the radar detection monitor, scowling at the sight of the oncoming Preventer's ship. He didn't know why, but suddenly the idea of being around preventers irked him. Maybe it was because he knew that the Preventer in question would easily karate chop him to the sun if given a chance.

He frowned and pushed himself away from Solo and Heero, letting the momentum he had given himself pull him across the gravity-less hold of the ship, towards the back where the cargo hold was. He would work on this alone, and away from the red-faced Chang who would more than likely blame everything on him anyway.

Besides, he had things he wanted to do. Many of which required a little tweaking in the Haro department. He had a feeling he would be having quite a bit of fun with this operating system, especially if it was programmed to 'assist' Heero in his soldierly duties.

All it needed was a little more personality, and maybe a slight change in loyalty.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN  
>[Day 13] L3 Colony Cluster<p>

The trip through the main colony's spaceport hub had been an interesting one. A team of heavily-armed Preventers agents, conspicuous to the point of being obvious, had been waiting to intercept them the moment they stepped into the terminal. They were all swathed in what he recognized instantly to be combat gear and impact vests. Heero knew none of the agents. Once he verified their credentials he showed them his HCA identification. Duo and Solo followed suit. His partner had Haro concealed somewhere in his duffel, and Wing's pilot was thankful for the American's foresight.

They were ushered quickly through the spaceport and into an awaiting black SUV. Heero snorted at the stereotypicality of the entire situation. Once the team of unfamiliar Preventers were certain that their quarry were safely inside their transport vehicle, their leader nodded to the driver-another stranger in a Preventers tactical uniform-and they were moving. The Japanese agent crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. If Noah had people trailing them then this was certainly going to count as suspicious behavior.

Leaning over towards Duo, who sat a few inches away on the bench seat, Heero narrowed his eyes and whispered quietly. "Do you think all this is really necessary?" It was a rhetorical question, but he knew his friend would understand his implications. Something had to have happened since they last contacted Chang and the colonel. Solo had mentioned that he had found it odd that the Preventers shuttle that Haro had identified hadn't attempted to contact or hail them during their flight to L3. Heero was almost positive that one of the other pilots, or their boss, had been on that shuttle. Something strange was going on.

They were unloaded after an uneventful ride in L3's business district, directly in front of the entrance to the Preventers' satellite office. The driver even opened the door for them, checking their surroundings for threats. Heero's coefficient of irritability was increasing with a dangerous exponential trend; he glared heatedly at the team of agents swarming them into the building. When the security agent in the richly appointed lobby asked to see his identification-_again_-Wing's pilot felt his fingers itching to pull his weapon on the man. Instead, he pulled his badge from the back pocket of his jeans, flashed it at the man, and shouted. "HCAs Azrael, Dumah, and Yuy!" he said as loudly as possible, turning to show his identification to the stunned team of agents still hovering behind them, and anyone else within earshot. All activity in the lobby, as well as the open floor overhead, had come to a screeching standstill. Heero pulled his dog tags from the neck of his tee shirt and waved them at the dumbfounded security agent, his marksmanship designation flashing clearly in the fluorescent lighting. "You all have fifteen seconds to get the colonel down here before I start shooting random targets," he bellowed. "

This was absolutely fucking ridiculous. They were here to bring highly classified information to their boss and fellow pilots, not be paraded around through L3 like politicians on holiday. Heero didn't need an armed escort. Duo _was _an armed escort, and Solo was more than capable of handling himself. He wanted to speak to Une, find out what the hell was going on, and get back to planning their infiltration mission. There were forty-odd suits sitting around unwatched on a resource satellite not two hundred clicks from this very populated colony, and these Preventers agents had no idea how imperative it was that they get this information to the director of the agency, as quickly as possible.

.

"Noobs..." Duo had muttered as the 'escort team' had ushered them inside. He had his bag shouldered tightly against one side, and his other hand balanced precariously on the grip of his gun concealed ever so tightly beneath his Preventer uniform jacket.

This was ridiculous, but Duo just went along with it, hoping vaguely that nobody took the time to notice the parade of idiots that surrounded them. He wondered: if a sniper had managed to see this and got a clear shot to his head, would he feel it?

Hm... he was thinking about that very thing when Heero started barking their code names and generally threatening the other Preventers with bodily harm.

Ah. That's more like it.

He grinned and protectively wrapped his arm around the duffle bag where the Haro lie in wait, currently muted. It shifted slightly in the bag, probably trying to scan and locate Heero.

Duo glanced over at Solo, wondering what the older man was thinking. He probably had the same feelings that Heero seemed to be having. Something along the lines of 'this is ridiculous, these people are inexperienced morons, and I just want to shoot someone'.

The thought brought a grin to his face. He looked around at all of the young recruits that were huddled up against them, their eyes darting around frantically. Slowly he leaned down to a particularly attractive young brunette and whispered in his friendliest voice, "Hey... what's the big deal here?"

The girl blinked and ducked her head nervously. She couldn't ignore a request from a HCA status agent, "Um... we have heightened security."

Duo resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead smiled a smile so bright and wide the Cheshire Cat would have been proud. "Well, how come?"

The girl bit her lip and looked around cautiously, as if the words themselves were triggers, and said, "There has been a bomb threat. For seven days someone has been calling in threats. They want the woman, Jackson, released. The bomb squad came and cleared the building, but the threats just keep coming."

Duo's smile dampened. He took a long glance around, just in time to see a very flushed looking older agent approach Heero at the front of their entourage. The man exchanged a few words with Yuy before ushering them through the lobby and towards the elevator. The throng of new agents assigned to protect them tried to follow suit, but were dispatched by Heero's icy glare. They awkwardly scattered away, hiding in the stairwells and sitting areas.

Duo blinked as he realized they were heading towards the main elevator in the lobby. What was with these people? Fine, they had a bomb threat. They went through the trouble of coddling them up to the building, why the hell would they load them onto the public elevator?

With a few skips and a jump he cut the older agent off at the now gaping hole in the wall where the open elevator awaited them.

"Hey... let's take the stairs, ne?" He said cheerfully, draping his arms firmly in the doorway.

The older agent grunted, apparently not too keen on physical activity. "But Colonel Une's office is on the seventeenth floor..." the man protested weakly. Duo shrugged his shoulders and eyed the man before grabbing Heero and Solo by their arms.

"Well, then we'll meet you up there, old timer." He dragged the other two agents towards the stairwell doors and busted through them before the older agent could utter a word of protest. Once inside the stark, white stairway he peered through the small hole in the door to make sure nobody had followed them before whispering angrily, "For Fuck's sake, all of this row is over a fucking bomb threat." He turned on his heel, repositioned the bag on his shoulder and hopped up a few steps before turning to eye Heero with concern.

"You gonna make it up these stairs okay with that bum leg of yours?"

.

The look that Heero shot his partner could have melted the most stalwart of iron. "My leg is perfectly operational," he growled. When Solo snickered beside him he punched his brother in the arm, but there was no real force behind it. "Shut up," he muttered lamely. Then he followed his partner up the stairs.

Solo grinned viciously before turning to Duo. "Bomb threats, huh?" He sounded far too excited about that, in Heero's opinion. "Why would they threaten this specific Preventers office? Or is this a general bomb threat?"

Heero glanced to his partner. That was an excellent question. Before the American pilot could open his mouth to reply, the stairwell door to their right burst open and Heero was suddenly confronted by a very irate Chang Wufei. The man grabbed him by the front of his Sweepers jacket and rammed him into the stairwell wall; the only thing that stopped Wing's pilot from lodging a bullet in his forehead was facial recognition and sheer surprise, which didn't happen often. This manhandling thing was getting to be a habit for Chang. "Do you have a death wish?" he barked. "You threatened to kill fellow agents in a lobby full of witnesses! Either you've lost your gods-damned mind or you've been spending entirely too much time with Maxwell!"

Duo had the good sense to look offended by the insult, and Solo stepped in, covering one of the fuming Chinese agent's fists-still clenched in the material of Heero's jacket-and squeezing. Heero heard bones creak in protest, and he knew it wasn't coming from the L2 native's hand. "You should probably take a step back and get your hands off my brother before I break them."

Heero, boots barely touching the ground and spine forced to conform around a fire extinguisher box, arched an eyebrow in mild shock at Solo's reaction. Chang seemed to forget about the Wing pilot momentarily and instead stared at Solo like the man was possessed. "Brother?" he asked, dumbfounded. His free hand's grip on the Japanese agent's jacket loosened considerably, and Solo pried the other off. Heero slid down the wall several inches and frowned as he watched the two agents size each other up. Perhaps failing to mention such a vital piece of information to the other pilots had been a mistake. He hadn't considered it imperative at the time.

"Yeah," the oldest man grinned lazily, flashing teeth at the dark-eyed pilot. "Calling me a liar?" It was an obvious challenge, but Heero wasn't quite sure how to intercede without provoking one or both of them. He was saved the trouble when the stairwell door opened once more and a startled Winner and Barton poured through it, nearly running directly into Duo before skidding to a halt.

"Colonel Une is waiting for you upstairs..." And then Winner sort of trailed off, his jaw dropping in a very undignified way as he looked back and forth between Heero and Solo. The Japanese agent resisted the urge to roll his eyes and sigh. This was really getting to be a problem. Heavyarms' pilot hadn't said a thing, but Heero was adept enough at reading his body language to see that the man was also taken aback by the similarities between them.

When the door opened a third time and Po came through with a flustered grimace on her pretty face, Heero wanted to bury his face in his hands to stop the scrutiny. The medical officer whistled appreciatively and practically leered at Solo, seemingly unaffected by his appearance. "Hot damn," she crowed. "I never thought I'd get the chance to see Azrael in double while sober!"

Heero was almost certain that the temperature of his face was approaching critical levels. Po shoved her way between Chang and his brother and slid an arm slyly along his shoulders, steering him out of the altercation with her partner and out of the stairs while poking and prodding at him and chattering about how handsome he was. Solo smiled uncomfortably at her. Winner and Chang shot perplexed looks at each other before following them, and Barton just snorted before leaving the stairwell. Heero slumped back against the wall and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes wearily. "I'm still considering retirement," he muttered into his wrists.

.

Duo had been mulling over Solo's question ever since the other agent had asked. _Why had they sent a bomb threat to the L3 headquarters? _It wasn't long before he knew why.

He stared wide-eyed at all of his former colleagues from the war. Hell, even Sally Po was here. His eyes immediately trailed up the stairs, searching for anything mounted on the walls that would look suspicious.

When they all started to disperse up the stairs he grabbed Heero's arm and began to take the stairs two at a time while peering around suspiciously.

He could hear Quatre and Trowa's voices echoing up ahead in the stairwell, having a private conversation he couldn't quite make out. Up ahead Wufei's boots were stomping moodily against the cement steps, and far ahead was Sally's now very small voice telling Solo all about how she had always thought Heero was a handsome young man as well.

Duo jumped as his bag twitched and wiggled furiously. The Haro wasn't happy about this situation, either.

"This isn't gonna be good," he whispered privately to Heero. "No fucking wonder they want to blow this shit up. We're all here. They made no secret of it, either." He snaked his arm through the other pilot's, still convinced that Yuy would need his help coming up the stairs. That and it also gave him an excuse to be close to him. If something was gonna go down in the minutes it took to hike up the stairs he wasn't going to be left alone to deal with it!

They were at the tenth floor. Duo slowed his pace and then yanked Heero to pause at the landing beside the door. Ahead he heard a door open and then slam close. Sally and Solo must have made it to the seventeenth floor. He held Heero's arm firmly as the door opened again, and another set of feet stomped out of the stairwell.

Duo could hear the last pair, Trowa and Quatre, pause at the top. He knew Quatre was probably waiting to see if they were going to actually come, or run away. He cursed under his breath and quickly turned to Heero. He shrugged off the bag with the Haro and handed it to the other agent.

"I gotta take a leak. Meet you up there, okay?" He said so loudly he was practically yelling. There was no way Quatre and Trowa hadn't heard him. He peered up the center of the stairwell to make sure nobody could see down at them. There wasn't a clear view down from the topside. That was good. With a sly grin he grabbed the Wing pilot by the front of his shirt and kissed the unsuspecting, brooding Japanese agent. After laying a good one on him he whispered into his ear, "Consider that payment for making you have to do the dirty work." He grinned from ear to ear before scampering out of the stairwell through the tenth floor door with a loud bang.

.

Heero blinked at the door to the tenth floor and then growled. Of course Duo would ditch him to face Une and the other agents by himself. This day couldn't possibly get any worse.

Trudging the other seven flights was easy, but by now his healing leg wound was making its presence known in a particularly uncomfortable way. He was almost limping when he cleared the doorway to the seventeenth floor and was bombarded by questions and commentary from his fellow pilots. Winner wanted to know why he hadn't said who the DNA profile belonged to when he'd sent it. Barton thought the world wasn't ready for another Heero Yuy. Chang was fuming over his failure to observe protocol and report_all_pertinent mission data. Sally was still fawning over his brother in a way that made Solo look ready to bolt. At least that was mildly amusing. The arrogant Sweeper probably wasn't used to being on the receiving end of such obvious advances, and Heero was almost certain the man had no preferences towards females, anyway.

When Colonel Une rounded the corner of the hallway in all of her raging glory, Wing's pilot decided that he was going to make his retard of a partner pay for this, and dearly. Kissing him as a distraction tactic was becoming a little trademark of Duo's, and the Japanese agent was over it. "You all have less than thirty seconds to get into that conference room before I start firing people," Une said calmly. Too calmly. Heero made sure that he wasn't the last one in.

After they had all settled down around the table, Sally inching her chair closer to Solo's, Chang glaring at the Sweeper furiously from across the solid oak tabletop, and his brother doing the best he could to hide behind Heero's chair, the colonel slapped her palms down on the table and leaned on them, keen eyes darting around her HCAs and realizing that someone was missing. "Azrael, where the hell is your partner?"

Heero wanted to slide out of his seat and under the table. "I don't know," he said evenly.

"He said he needed to take a piss," Barton offered helpfully, in his usual emotionless deadpan.

Une pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "Fine. We'll start without him. You all know about the bomb threats?" It was more a statement than a question, but a few nods answered her anyway. Under the table, Duo's duffel was fidgeting frantically, and Heero kicked it gently with his boot. Haro was acting awfully strangely, considering that his friend had already reprogrammed him. "Good. Jackson's rebel group is demanding that she be released from Preventers' custody, which obviously isn't going to happen, and managed to find out that all of you pilots would be here today. If we have an internal leak, it's too late to flush them out now. The building has been cleared, but this has been going on for days. Azrael," her brown eyes swiveled to Heero, "What is the situation with the main resistance group?"

Heero launched into the most concise and abridged explanation that he could manage without giving up certain bits of information that he preferred to keep between himself, his brother, and his partner. "They're called the Hathcock Project. Their leader is a man called Lowe, but the brains behind the operation is Noah. We have no idea who either of these men are, what their backgrounds include, or why they're interested in colonial autonomy. They are manufacturing mobile suits on a resource satellite in the L3 cluster. We visually confirmed thirty of them. We were told there would be fifteen more, for a total of forty-five suits."

Winner looked ill. Barton's eyes flashed ominously. Chang was still and silent. None of them wanted another Eve War, and this time they were at the obvious disadvantage of being without their Gundams. "We've infiltrated their organization under the guise of sympathizers with useful skills to offer. Solo," he gestured to his brother, "Is actually a Sweeper, so we used that connection to get admitted to the satellite. They take pilot-mechanic pairs for each unit. Dumah and I were selected. We have no idea who the other unit operators are, but we will soon."

Heero hesitated. Did he tell them about Haro? The duffel was struggling wildly to get out from underneath his boot. No, it wasn't critical to the mission, he decided. "You want to imbed yourselves in a dangerous militant group and pilot mobile suits in an uprising against ESUN?" Une looked murderous. "Are you three crazy? ESUN is already breathing down my neck to keep you," she pointed at Heero, "And your manipulative partner under lock and key. How am I supposed to justify-"

"You're not." Solo had interrupted her. The other pilots stared at him. He stood from the chair he'd wedged behind Heero's and put a steadying hand on the Wing pilot's shoulder. "We can shut this entire operation down before ESUN ever finds out about it. The only people who know about it are in this room." He carefully managed to avoid mentioning Duo. "We can keep it that way. Give us two months." Heero's mind flew with calculating their timetable and concurred with his brother's assessment.

Une snorted and shook her head at the man's forwardness. "You've been a Preventer for less than a week and you already think you're capable of working with our two most reckless agents, stopping a colonial uprising, and giving me orders?"

Solo's hand tightened on Heero's shoulder, but the Japanese agent willed his brother not to back down. "Yes," Solo answered, but his voice didn't sound nearly as strong or determined as it had moments before. Had this been any other situation, Heero would have laughed.

"Okay," Une relented. Now every pair of eyes in the room was staring at her like she'd announced she was pregnant. "What?" she snapped. "Any of you geniuses have a better idea?" All eyes were cast down at the tabletop. "That's what I thought. Azrael, Yuy, go find that moron Dumah before he escapes from the building. Take whatever supplies you'll need from the depot in the basement. You are to check in with Chang or myself as frequently as possible, and I want a mission plan on my desk by tomorrow at noon. If you even think you might need backup you are to request it immediately, and I'll send you every HCA I have. You're all dismissed."

They filed out of the room noisily, like a group of chatty high schoolers, and Heero snagged his brother's hand, tugging him away from the main group and back into the stairwell while the others lingered in the hallway. Solo arched an eyebrow at him questioningly but followed, and once the door was closed behind them and they'd descended a flight of stairs, Heero dropped his partner's duffel on the floor and frowned. "Haro's acting strangely," he said quietly. "Something's wrong."

Solo nodded, watching the duffel writhe across the floor as the little OS unit tried to communicate with Heero. "Okay. Let's find Dumah and get the fuck outta here." Wing's pilot nodded. His brother shouldered the furiously struggling duffel and followed him down another flight of stairs. Heero rounded the corner to the thirteenth floor's landing when the wall to his left exploded, throwing him down the next batch of stairs, he and Solo landing in a tangle of duffel and limbs, and then everything went black.

.

Duo had been looking for anything suspicious on the tenth floor but his search didn't come up with anything productive. Well, aside from a very confused looking man standing at a urinal, wondering why Duo was looking for something called a "detonator" where his dick had been.

He had searched the eleventh floor, and found nothing but a hidden pair of Preventers making out in the copy room and a loose candy bar hanging precariously in a vending machine. After kicking the machine a dozen times the candy bar had fallen loose. Duo had snatched it up before anyone could see and had skipped up to the thirteenth floor, chewing in victory.

Sure, the building seemed safe enough but his gut was telling him otherwise. Why would there be so many threats without an actual bomb? Nah, there was something here. If not a bomb, then something else. Maybe a masked gunman or a homicidal maniac was lurking in the hallways, prepared to seek revenge for the capture of their leader.

Duo recalled the crazy woman he had fought with. He remembered distinctly the hate in her eyes at the sight of him, and her determination at having them killed. Just because she had been caught didn't mean the coast was clear. Someone else could be out there who was following that whack-job. Someone a little nuttier, and a little more resourceful.

Jackson had been an inside job. Certainly there could be more. And, from the looks of things, Une was short on decent agents. Here she was on L3, surrounded by newbies who just yesterday had figured out how to load a gun. He knew that the thought of a bomb had scared them. He could see it in their eyes.

If there was one thing Duo knew a lot about it was explosives. It had been a hobby of his and Solo's when they were kids. They had made all sorts of homemade bombs. Hell, half of the destruction on L2 had been caused by the orphans and bored kids of the streets.

He finished the last bite of his candy bar and hopped into the main hall of the thirteenth floor. He looked around slowly, searching for any openings in the walls or vent holes where a bomb could be stowed.

"If I were a grenade... where would I roll?" He mumbled to himself as he padded along the carpeted hall, peering into empty offices, trashcans, and open desk drawers. Nobody was up here, which was funny. He sniffed the air. It smelled like fresh, blank paper and sticky notes. He found a small bowl of dinner mints on another desk. He took a handful and shoved them into his pocket with a grin before meandering across the hallway to the next office.

It was there that he heard it. A faint beep, almost as if a wristwatch had been left in a vent. He narrowed his eyes and looked up. There was no way anyone could be stupid enough not to notice something like that, right?

He climbed on the desk, walking noisily over the keyboard there, and reached up to grab the vent overhead. He slid it to the right to open it, then grabbed either side of the frame and pulled himself straight up. He grunted as he strained. He really needed to remember to hit that gym when this was all over. He peered to the left, and then to the right. Nothing. He looked down the dark vent and listened. He couldn't hear a thing. Maybe it wasn't in the vent after all? He yanked himself up anyway, prepared to crawl a little ways when it happened.

The world erupted around him. The ceiling rocked and flames burst through the open hole in the vent. He ducked his head down against the vent and covered his head with his arms. The vent shook, then bent up against him, practically pinning him to the roof of the crawl space. Heat blazed over his head and he could feel the knuckles of his fingers blistering. His clothes were smoking in places as embers flashed past him, illuminating the dark vents for a few seconds before extinguishing themselves against the brushed aluminum around him. His cheek, which he had pressed against the metal venting beneath him, stung with the heat. It had been blown upwards, proving his suspicions to be incorrect. The bomb had been there all right. It had just been below him, rather than above.

He flinched and tried to push the bent metal away from his stomach where it had clamped up against him, pinning him in place. He couldn't budge it. He tried again, but the effort began to make his head swim. Smoke from a fire below began to fill the vent. He wiped his watering eyes with the back of his arm and grinned to himself mirthlessly.

"Could be worse..." he coughed to himself.

.

"...'Ro, wake the fuck up!"

Someone was slapping him a little roughly, and that was never a pleasant way to wake up. Heero swung at the voice but his arms felt uncoordinated and heavy. His head was pounding furiously. "We have to find Duo! Snap out of it, dammit!"

That was Solo. Heero shifted as much as he could and his entire left side protested violently. They had been descending the stairs after the mission briefing. The wall had exploded on the thirteenth floor. Solo was obviously well enough that he was cursing loudly and hauling his brother to his feet, practically dragging him and Duo's duffel bag down the wreckage of the stairs, but Heero felt as if he'd been run over by a freight train.

Where was Duo?

Wing's pilot lurched away from his brother suddenly, trying to head back up the stairs to the explosion site. He stumbled into the stairwell wall before Solo could turn and grab him to prevent him falling completely. "Did that concrete scramble your brains, you little shit? We have to get the fuck outta here," the older man growled, but Heero shook his head, immediately regretting the action.

"Find the blast zone and find Duo," he muttered, grabbing the duffel bag with shaking hands. The zipper was tricky, but he barely needed to open the bag before Haro wriggled free, ears flapping wildly. "Unmute, Haro," Heero told it. The unit beg and chirping and beeping frantically.

"DANGER! DANGER! HEE-CHAN INJURED! HEE-CHAN INJURED!"

Heero would have been irritated with his partner over the silly programming had he not been silently terrified that the man had been killed in the explosion. "Haro, locate Johnson. Quickly."

The unit blinked silently at him. Fuck. The programming had apparently been extended to Duo himself. Haro no longer recognized Duo as 'Guy Johnson,' or himself as 'John Ritter.' Wonderful. What else would his best friend have identified himself as to the little AI unit?

"Haro, find Shinigami," Solo said softly. Heero's identical blue eyes shot to his brother's. How had he known...? It didn't matter. Haro was now actively scanning the structure-through the walls-for Duo.

"SHIN-CHAN LOCATED. SHIN-CHAN LOCATED. LEVEL 13 AIR DUCTS. LEVEL 13 AIR DUCTS."

Heero swore and rushed up the stairs with Haro under one arm, scrambling over rubble as quickly as he could. His left side was bleeding, his head spun with every jarring forward movement he made, and he was certain that he had a concussion. None of that mattered though until he found his partner. Solo was right behind him.

The thirteenth floor looked like a battlefield. Desks, chairs, and other office equipment had been blown to kindling, the sprinkler system was raining water onto them, and Heero smelled smoke. Something was on fire, and he could only hope it wasn't roasting his reckless partner. "Which way, Haro?" he demanded.

"FIFTY YARDS AHEAD. FIFTY YARDS AHEAD." Solo was sprinting in the indicated direction before Haro had finished. The Japanese agent followed as quickly as he could manage.

"Dumah!" Solo was shouting into every office he passed, and after the fourth one he heard a muffled yell in return. He disappeared into the room, leaving Heero to catch up. The large wooden desk in the center of the room-or what was left of it-was engulfed in flames. Every stick of furniture in the office had been blown to hell, and the blast zone seemed to center right underneath the open air duct vent in the room. Heero scowled. That moron had climbed into the duct system to_look_for the damned bomb...

"DANGER! DANGER! FIRE! FIRE!" Haro beeped loudly.

Solo had run from the room, muttering something about a fire extinguisher, and when he returned he doused the flames enough to put them out before chucking the red canister away and pullinf his Sweepers jacket off. With one good upward jump, his fingers snagged the edge of the duct opening and he hauled himself up easily, his legs dangling from the ceiling as Heero watched. "You stupid fucker!" His brother's voice was muffled but irate. "You nearly got yourself killed!" Then Solo was shimmying into the duct and Heero watched the bowed metal bend back outward slightly with each resounding clang that sounded; he assumed that Solo was punching the damned thing back into shape to free their trapped partner.

There was an audible scuffle in the duct, and then Duo was all but shoved none too gently from the vent opening, landing on his ass in a pile of charred, smoldering wood. He looked like shit, but Heero was just grateful that he hadn't been caught in the direct blast. Haro chirped happily upon confirming his programmer. "SHIN-CHAN! SHIN-CHAN!"

Solo was levering himself back down to the floor, grumbling and muttering the whole way down and shooting Deathscythe's pilot several irritated glances. Heero felt his legs giving out on him in the wake of the adrenaline rush that had propelled him through the rubble of the stairway and to this devastated office. He sank to the ground on his knees, holding Haro to his chest, and closed his eyes to control the pain in his head. "HEE-CHAN! HEE-CHAN!" Haro was squawking. "CONDITION BELOW OPERATIONAL PARAMETERS! CONDITION BELOW OPERATIONAL PARAMETERS!" They were really going to have to adjust the volume on the little guy...

"Let's get the hell outta here and find the others," Solo was growling, slinging one of Heero's arms over his shoulders and securing his own around his brother's waist. He tossed Haro carefully to Duo. "What a fucking mess."

.

Duo had been grateful that it was Solo and Heero who had found him, and not Une or the fire department. He fell out of the vent with a resounding thud, having the wind knocked completely out of him. He coughed weakly and blinked a few times, trying in vain to clear the smokey burn from his eyes. He could barely see a thing.

What he could see as he pulled himself shakily to his feet was Heero bleeding all over the place and looking like shit. Upon closer inspection, Solo was pretty banged up too.

They had been in the blast? Duo narrowed his eyes and caught the wobbling, blinking Haro as Solo had tossed it to him. "Where the hell were you guys...?" Why weren't they on the seventeenth floor? He hoped they hadn't been actively looking for him. If they had then he was the reason why Heero looked like he lost a fight with a pickup truck.

"HARO. HARO. HARO. HARO." The Haro was going off like crazy. "HEE-CHAN. HEE-CHAN."

Oops. The thing was using the pet name for Heero still. Duo wondered if Heero were capable would he punch him in the face for programming that. He began to pick his way through the rubble carefully towards the now gaping hole where the stairwell had been. All around them emergency sirens were blasting from the L3 environmental controls detecting smoke and fire. Pieces of the ceiling were breaking loose and falling to the ground and the thin, brittle floor beneath them creaked and gave away a little as they shuffled across it.

"Maxwell!" Duo blinked, having not heard his last name spoken in the Preventers in some time. One they had gotten to the opening where the stairwell was Duo looked up to see Wufei crouched on the stairway landing just above them, rebar and cement creaking and crumbling beneath his feet. Upon seeing them the Chinese agent had begun to climb down to their level. Up above Duo could see a couple of figures standing in the swirling gray dust. It looked like Trowa annd Quatre to him.

"Maxwell!" Wufei barked again as he trudged through the rubble towards them. Duo flinched and expected a barrage of expletives and a lecture about how stupid he was when the Chinese agent grabbed his shoulders. Duo tensed and waited for a fist to connect, hugging the Haro tightly against his stomach.

"WAFFLES IS A-"

"Haro, shut up-" Duo mumbled quickly. The Haro blinked and silenced.

Duo peered up through his ashy bangs at Wufei, who was staring down at him wide-eyed. A long, awkward moment passed before the Chinese agent squeezed his shoulders again. This was the calmest Duo had ever seen him.

"You're such an idiot," Wufei said quietly, though not maliciously. It dawned on Duo then that Wufei had been worried about him. He had been worried about all of them. He stared up at the other pilot as if he had never met him before. Wufei quickly released him and turned to look at Solo with a placid expression. "We have to get Azreal medical attention." Duo watched as Chang grabbed Heero's other arm and began helping Solo lug him down the stairs.

Duo released the breath he had been holding since the Chinese pilot had appeared. He coughed and rubbed at his eyes a little before peering up at the figures up above. They began to clarify as the dust began to settle. He had been right. It was Quatre and Trowa. They were looking down at him questioningly.

"Heero's hurt bad," Duo said sheepishly. It wasn't the first time Heero had gotten fucked up in a blast, and it probably wouldn't be the last. He felt guilty that the other pilot had gotten hurt because of him. He looked down at the ground angrily after Trowa gave him that 'oh, again?' eyebrow lift. He was growing angry. The Haro had sensed that and was wiggling mutely against his clenched grasp.

Duo began to rationalize things desperately in his head. It wasn't his fault. It was Une's and everyone else here for letting a fucking bomb stay hidden while the most important protectors of the world met up in the building to discuss the peace and safety of the Earth Sphere. It wasn't his fault that the bomb went off. He had been looking for it to deactivate it. The haunting feeling that he could have been blown to smithereens lingered in his thoughts as he looked around at the devastation the floor had endured.

As his eyes took in his surroundings he had come to a conclusion that stunned him. The rest of the building was erect? The bomb hadn't taken down the entire thing. It wasn't a terribly big building, and it could have easily been toppled if the bomb had been centrally located. He lifted a dirty hand to rub his stinging cheek as he turned around and around, searching the debris for any sign of the explosive used. He inched over to the worst of the charred hole in the ground and began digging with one hand. He displaced a large chunk of cement, then a piece of what had once been a printer.

"Dumah? What are you doing? You need to go to the medic!" Quatre's worried voice echoed from somewhere above his head.

"It still has to be here!" Duo yelled back desperately as he hurriedly began to dig through the pile. He didn't trust the team that was going to investigate this. He didn't trust anyone. He was starting not to trust Une and the others. How could everyone be so careless? This was all turning into some sort of hellish nightmare. Quatre and Trowa weren't dumb. Neither was Wufei. How could they come here knowing something was wrong and not do anything about it? Had their previous training gotten rusty since the wars? Didn't they care about anything anymore? Had they gotten soft in the head?

He grunted as he pulled away handfuls of debris until finally, in a small gap that had once existed between the floor of the ceiling of the lower level, he found a bent piece of metal. He grabbed it and inspected it closely. It was slightly rectangular, but warped from the heat and the blast of the initial explosion. There were no distinguishing marks on it. No messages, serial codes. Nothing. He sniffed it.

It smelled like Vernier fuel fumes.

He licked it. It tasted like the fuel, too.

So it hadn't been C4. That had explained the strange shortness of the blast, and how everything had immediately erupted into flame. Vernier fuel was a strange choice, and would have been an elaborate setup. This had to be the work of a military operation. You could get C4 anywhere on the black market. Ever since the destruction of mobile suits, Vernier fuel was extremely hard to come by. So someone had to have had it left over from the wars.

Duo clutched the metal piece tightly in hand, the Haro in the other, and stomped through the debris towards the stairs.

"Dumah? What did you find?" Quatre asked from the platform above. Duo began his descent down the steps, intent now only on finding Heero and Solo. He hadn't bothered to answer Quatre. He wouldn't trust anyone else any more.

.

Heero was tired of medical attention. Realistically, he wasn't injured badly enough to require Po practically ripping off his shirt and working him over with a field kit. Chang's hovering wasn't making this process any less painful. The Chinese pilot was pacing the length of the sidewalk in front of the Preventers building, walking from one end of the police tape line to the other, fuming silently. The local law enforcement personnel had arrived minutes after the blast. The fire department and bomb squad units had teamed up with Preventers agents to search the rest of the building, but Heero was almost certain that the one bomb had been the only bomb.

Wincing as Po dumped half a bottle of alcohol onto his side, Wing's pilot clenched his jaw and closed his eyes to avoid making any noise. That would just encourage the deranged doctor. If he took any more physical abuse like today's during the remainder of this mission, he was positive that he would be permanently lame or deaf. This wasn't quite Duo's fault, but the other agent should have told him that he'd suspected something of this magnitude...

"Why did you go in there to find him?" Blue eyes opened and swiveled to where Chang now stood over him, arms folded over his chest and scowling. "Standard protocol is to clear the building after the initial explosion, especially if you've been injured. There could have been another bomb. You both could have died trying to find that idiot."

Solo shifted uncomfortably where he sat on the sidewalk, cradling his brother's head in his lap, pulling the Wing pilot closer as some type of shield. Heero knew the Sweeper wouldn't answer that; he couldn't without ratting out the other agents' more than professional relationship. The fact that Solo was uncomfortable around all of these people didn't help, though, and his dislike of the Chinese agent was very obvious. "He's my partner," the Japanese pilot said quietly.

Chang snorted and rolled his eyes. "Po is my partner. She's left me inside burning buildings before. I've left her behind, as well. We understand the protocol. We also trust each others' judgment and abilities."

"I trust him completely," Heero growled vehemently, and he meant every word of it. "But he needed my help. We're a team." He realized that he was now mentally including his brother in that phrase.

With a shake of his head, Chang kneeled down beside him and gave him a knowing look. Even Po had paused in her prodding of his injuries to cock her head to one side, a surprised look on her pretty features. "Bury that attachment, Yuy," the black-haired man said quietly. "It will get one or all three of you killed. You know better. You're soldiers."

Solo glared at Chang, reaching out lightening-fast to snag a fistful of the younger man's shirt and shake him roughly. "You don't know what you're talking about." His voice was low and dangerous. "I'd suggest you keep your fucked up opinions to yourself before I break your face." He probably would have followed through on the threat had he not had Heero half-slung over his lap and Po arching a challenging eyebrow at him.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you have no idea who_I_am and precisely what I'm capable of," Chang snarled.

Solo chuckled darkly and dragged the other agent forward a few inches, his grin feral. "You don't know a thing about me, you arrogant asshole. Who the fuck do you think the scientists guinea pigged all of 'Ro's training on?"

Chang had never looked quite so unsure of himself before. This was getting out of hand. Heero reached up and grabbed Solo's wrist, glaring up at him. It was an unspoken command-cease and desist. Wing's pilot was almost surprised when his brother obeyed after giving Chang another threatening look.

Po continued poking and prodding his injured side for several minutes, Chang and Solo glaring daggers at one another, and she was finishing up yet another butterfly closure when Duo came running out of the building with something metal in his hands. Solo buried his face in one palm and muttered around it. "If that stupid little fucker brings a bomb over here, I'm going to _end _him."

.

As Duo approached the cluster of people just outside of the police line he shoved his souvenir piece of shrapnel under his jacket and cradled the Haro casually with one arm against his hip. The little orange ball bounced and wriggled at the sight of Heero. He carefully set it on the ground next to Yuy and let it roll toward him, watching as it bounced against the other pilot's leg.

"HEE-CHAN. HEE-CHAN."

Duo immediately noticed the angry expressions on everyone's face. Wufei looked like he was going to kill Solo. Solo looked like he was going to kill Wufei and Duo. Sally looked thoroughly confused, and Heero was just staring up at him with an unreadable expression. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and immediately shifted his eyes from the potential brawl on the ground to the surrounding area. He didn't like being out in the open like this. He felt like a target. When he was a kid he always stuck to shadows and alleys. L3 was so much bigger than L2, and more spacious and open. It was unnerving.

"How're you doing...?" He muttered quietly to Heero as he knelt down near his head, his violet eyes flitting over to the shrapnel wounds on Heero's side. The guy was like a punching bag for life lately. He immediately felt guilty. Had he found the bomb under the floor this may not have even happened.

He then turned to look up at Solo and sighed, "Thanks." For saving me. For helping Heero. For being someone I can trust.

He frowned and looked over at the Haro, which was rolling around frantically, bumping against Heero as if trying to get the Japanese pilot to hold it. He noticed Wufei glaring down at the OS. He wondered how much Wufei knew, about Solo and the Haro. He wondered if Quatre had told anyone about his joke on L4. Suddenly he began to worry about his status in Preventers. Wufei thought he was a moron. Solo was coming off a lot more useful than he was, and he seemed to be a more suitable partner for Heero. Nobody worked in teams of three.

He had missed the meeting and had gotten himself in the center of the bomb explosion. He had gotten in trouble, risked the lives of everyone else, and had come off extremely childish by toying with the OS. He began to feel extremely insecure. Time to make a joke.

He reached down carefully to set his hand on Heero's unmarred shoulder. "You keep this up and they'll have to give you disability. Then you can get that retirement. Want me to find another bomb? You only have one good leg left."

.

"Calm down, Haro."

Ignoring Chang and Po's questioning expressions, Heero reached down carefully and picked up the twittering OS, setting the sphere on his stomach and looking to Duo. "There is nothing wrong with either of my legs," he said blandly. Retirement? He _wished._

"What is that?" Chang asked slowly, studying the happily chirping ball rolling in circles around Heero's navel. "And why is it calling you 'Hee-chan'? Isn't that what Maxwell used to call you to get a rise out of you back in Brussels?"

Solo grinned wolfishly down at his brother. Great. Heero was never going to get rid of that nickname, now. "I can't tell you anything about this unit. It's part of the infiltration mission," he replied evenly. He looked to Po. "Can I leave now?"

The blonde woman snorted, rolled her eyes, and slapped him soundly on his injured side. Heero winced. "Yes, I suppose you're all patched up." She looked to Duo. "Make sure he takes it easy for at least twenty-four hours. I know that's a tall order, but I'm serious." Her eyes moved to Solo and she smiled devilishly at him. "And you keep an eye on both of them, handsome."

Chang was fuming when Solo grinned, leaned forward, and kissed her quickly on the cheek. Then he stood, dragging his brother upright with him, and caught Haro as it slid towards the ground. The Japanese agent's shirt was split down his bad side and he scowled at it before demanding Solo's jacket. The older man shrugged it off and Heero pulled it on carefully. It was a little roomy in the shoulders but seemed to fit rather well.

"We need to find a hotel nearby. We have to get Une a mission plan. And I don't know about you two, but I need a shower." There were still bits of drywall and cement stuck in their hair. Duo was singed, which Heero normally would have found amusing. Solo had blood all over the front of his shirt, but Heero wasn't sure if it was his or his brother's. Haro whirred in his arms and he held the little sphere closer. It, and Solo, had probably saved Duo's life. "Any suggestions?"

.

Duo had been emptying his pocket of the dinner mints he had stolen from the desk before the explosion. The colorful pastels had been crushed and nearly melted in the blast, leaving nothing but a sticky powder lining his out turned pockets.

"Anywhere but fucking here," he mumbled quietly, his eyes suspiciously peering around at the growing crowd of L3 colonists who had come to see what the blast had been about.

Duo wanted to go to outer space. He wanted to hide somewhere where nobody else could see him. He looked like shit, smelled like shit, and felt like hell. He didn't trust any of these people. He was tired of being around these idiots. He didn't want to stay in a hotel. He didn't trust it. The people who planted the bomb had been able to get into the Preventers - supposedly the most secure organization ever - and had blown up a bunch of Gundam pilots as if it was nothing. Who was to say they couldn't find them in a hotel?

He was starting to really hate this job. Running away and hiding in that meteor belt was sounding more and more promising by the minute.

"I don't fucking care," he said angrily, shooting a glare at the both of them. He was tired of thinking. He was tired of feeling useless. He was out of his element when it came to taking orders. Hell, during the wars he had practically been a free agent. He had hardly taken orders from anyone. He didn't like reporting in to people. He didn't like the way Wufei was looking at him. He didn't like the knowing look fucking Quatre was giving him from over the police barricade. He was itching to shoot something. He just wanted to scream.

He was standing next to a thoroughly beat up Heero Yuy. Solo was here. He thought he should feel happy, but he wasn't. His hair was fucking gone. Nobody took him seriously. Someone was actively trying to kill them and nobody seemed phased by this. Someone was fucking with them, luring them into traps, and the morons around here just fell for it over and over again.

His hands immediately balled into fists. He raised his arm up to wipe his still stinging eyes with the back of a grubby hand, his burnt cheek swelling with redness. He was fucking pissed, and he needed to get out of here before he lost it in front of everyone.

"You guys figure it out. I need to go for a walk. Text me where you end up." He practically hissed through clenched teeth before stalking angrily in the opposite direction of the wreckage and his teammates. He knew he would be lectured about how they had to stick together. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take the ridicule. He needed to be alone. He needed for these stupid civilians to stop staring and whispering as he pushed through them.

No... kid, don't come over here...

"Hey, what happened? Was there a bomb or something?" A nosey teenager asked excitedly as he passed him.

Fuck.

"Get the fuck out of my face!" He snapped nastily as he pushed past the kid roughly. A few onlookers gasped. Some even ducked out of his way in horror.

.

Heero made to get up and go after their partner but Solo restrained him. "Don't. I dunno who pissed in his Cheerios but he used to do this when we were kids. Just needs to blow off some steam. He'll be right as rain in an hour or two."

Wing's pilot nodded grudgingly. He got to his feet clumsily and scowled. He absolutely loathed being outside his standard physical operational parameters. His brother gave him an appraising once-over before slinging an arm around his shoulders and steering him away from the other Preventers. "I think we should hide out on the ship," he said quietly. Haro squirmed against the Japanese agent's stomach but remained silent. "If they could sneak a bomb into a Preventers building, a hotel would be a cakewalk."

Heero couldn't find any flaw in that logic. It took twenty minutes to walk back to the spaceport. The dark glare that Heero gave the security agents kept them at bay long enough for him to key in the passcode to unlock the battered old shuttle. Once securely inside, Solo kicked his boots off near the pilot's chair and went into the cargo hold, reappearing moments later with a few blankets that had seen better days and the ship's first aid kit. He flopped into the pilot's seat and began doctoring his own cuts and lacerations. Heero leaned back in the co-pilot's seat, propped his boots on the main console, and stared up at the metal-plated ceiling.

What a mess. Duo was wandering through L3 with a temper and loaded weapons, Heero was injured yet again, and Solo was the only one of them acting rationally. Or was he? Wing's pilot thought back on the two altercations Solo had gotten into with Chang and he chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. His brother had acted very aggressively for no apparent reason. Chang hadn't threatened or otherwise offended the Sweeper, but he had instead come to Heero's defense. That in and of itself was odd. It was also extremely annoying. Heero was a fucking Gundam pilot, not some fair princess in need of rescuing. Then again, it had been an interesting change of pace to have someone else arguing with the Chinese agent.

Heero looked over at Solo, who had the end of a roll of gauze between his teeth and was fighting with a pair of small scissors. The older man looked up after a moment, arched an eyebrow, and mumbled, "What the fuck are you staring at?" around the cotton in his mouth. Heero almost smirked. How many times had he done the same thing in order to patch himself up without asking for help? He must have looked just as ridiculous.

"You said that ZERO destroyed your emotional capacity," he said quietly. Solo nodded, waiting for him to get to the point. "If that's true, then why are you acting so defensive of Duo and I?"

Identical blue eyes dropped to the bandage half wound around Solo's arm. He spat out the loose end of the gauze and secured it with tape before replying. "I may have... exaggerated a little." He glanced up at Heero almost guiltily. "Okay, a lot."

The Japanese pilot flagged a brow at his brother. "Explain."

Solo sighed and slumped back in his seat. "Look, the ZERO System erased a lot of my memory. That was the main problem J had with it. It also decreased my ability to feel compassion or empathy for others. It made me think more objectively and feel less. But lately..." He frowned but still wouldn't meet Heero's eyes. "Lately I've been remembering things, stupid, insignificant details about being in the lab, and growing up with Duo, and watching J experiment on you. It's not much, but I'll recall little flashes of things that happened. It pisses me off that he found you on the streets and used you that way. I at least volunteered. And Duo never shoulda had to grow up like that, eating outta trash cans and hiding from the cops. It's stupid."

That explained the sudden protectiveness that Solo had been exhibiting. Heero still wasn't sure how to handle it. On some level, he knew that it wasn't intended to make him uncomfortable or undermine his abilities and competence as a soldier-it was just something that brothers did. But until a few weeks ago, Heero had been an orphaned only child. This was going to take some getting used to. "Don't tell me to knock it off, either. I can't," Solo muttered to the console in front of them. "I won't lose you two a second time."

And that was that. Solo grew quiet, and even Haro seemed to have reverted to his processors' least energy-demanding state. Heero was almost asleep himself when the hatch door hissed quietly open and he watched Duo come aboard the ship. Heero wanted to ask him where he'd been, and why he'd been so angry, but then again he also didn't want to get into a verbal altercation with the other agent. He settled for, "Status?"

.

Duo had gotten word from Solo that they had bunked down in the shuttle, which was good. He wouldn't have to argue the fact he wasn't going to be caught dead sleeping in any public place here on L3.

He had sulked off on his own for a while after the little bomb incident. Somewhere in a parking garage he had angrily chucked his Preventer jacket in the trash, cursed so loudly that his voice echoed over to the nearest public school's third grade class, and then proceeded to kick the shit out of the wastebasket with his jacket inside. He had beaten the crap out of the thing until he was thoroughly exhausted before retrieving the jacket, but refusing to put it on.

He had wandered around L3 for the rest of the afternoon with the jacket turned inside out and wrapped around the piece of metal he had taken from the destroyed floor of the Preventer HQ. Using some credits he had left over in his pocket from the highjacking on L4, he had bought some essential supplies.

Nothing like a little retail therapy to calm the nerves.

He had entered the shuttle with two giant paper bags full of goodies. He tried his best to be quiet when he boarded the shuttle, but heard Heero's voice demanding report as soon as his boots had hit the corrugated metal.

_"Status?"_

Duo let the door close quietly behind him. With a loud crinkle he had dropped the heavy bags on a workstation beside Heero.

"Fine," was all he had to say in response. He didn't know what else to say. He scrunched up his nose in thought before tilting one of the bags over, draining its contents on the unlit tabletop. "Got some food."

Power bars. Fruits. Healthy food. He had been in a bad mood, and was surprisingly thinking functional. Not a candy bar in sight. The second bag was filled partially with spare generic clothing items. Socks, t-shirts, etc. Toothpaste. A bar of soap. The bottom was littered with ammo boxes. He had managed to raid the Preventer storage rooms before he had come. An assortment of 9mm and .45 caliber 50 round boxes were stacked haphazardly at the bottom. At the very bottom of the ammo bag was a pair of shoelaces. He grabbed them and then turned to sit on the ground and began replacing a shoe lace he had managed to snap while kicking the hell out of that trash can.

"In there is a piece of the bomb I found in the floor," he said slowly, pointing to his balled up jacket he had dumped on the ground beside the bag of supplies. "They used vernier fuel. I'm sure of it. I couldn't find anything else. It's like..." he paused in weaving his new black laces and thought for a moment before motioning to the twisted block of metal, "it was a homemade operation. No trigger switches. No pins. It was just that, and it smells like fuel. It couldn't have been much. I mean, the liquid form doesn't even ignite. It is just the fumes that are flammable."

Duo knew the smell of jet fuel anywhere. He had spent two years with Doctor G working with mecha, all of which used vernier engines to break through Earth's gravitational pull during atmospheric ascent. He had once been bathed with it. It used to be in his pores, in his nose, in his hair. It had been almost two years since he had smelled that smell, but he could never have forgotten it. "The only people who have access to that shit are former military groups or the Sweepers. When I was sweeping we would find trucks full of the shit parked forgotten in backs of junk yards."

He dusted his hands off after fixing his boots. Carefully he stood up, his face still marked with ash smudges, his cheek spotted with tiny blisters from the hot metal that had shielded him from the blast. He reached up to absently push his dirty bangs back before thumbing in the direction of the cargo hold. "Guess I better go clean up. I look like a homeless person. Heh. Wait a minute, guess I kinda am homeless, huh?" He shrugged with a smile, grabbed the bar of soap and a clean red t-shirt and pair of black socks, and padded off in the direction of the cargo hold.

Once in the back he let out a sigh and grabbed a gallon of fresh water from the storage locker, along with a tan military towel. The things were useless for drying oneself, but he figured he would just scrub his face the best he could until he got to someplace suitable.

He had been the expert as hygiene on the go. He had never brushed his teeth with a real toothbrush until he was eight. Up until then he had used his finger, stolen baking soda, and a toothpick.

He poured the cold water on his face, lathered up the towel with the bar of soap and began rubbing at his tender cheeks roughly. They stung. The soap trickled into his eyes. He didn't care. He hoped the residue would eat away all of the ash and smoke he had gotten in them earlier that day. Once satisfied he could scrub his face no longer he poured half of the water on his head to rinse the bits of dirt out of his hair. He tore the rubber band away from the back of his neck and let what remained of his damp hair fall around his head. He scrubbed at it with the soap, splashed more freezing water on it, and then vainly tried to dry it with the flimsy towel.

He peeled his shirt off, scrubbed everything he could reach, focused on his armpits for a minute or two, and then slapped himself with water again. Then he toed off his boots, peeled off his socks with a grimace and began fervently lathering up his toes, marveling at how filthy he had gotten over the past few days.

Once his feet were clean he slicked his wet hair back with his hands and sat down on the floor in his damp slacks, staring down at his wet feet. What a fucking life. He had helped save peace for the world, and yet here he was hiding out from possible killers, AGAIN, and having to bathe himself like a pauper in the back of a shuttle hold.

It was cold. He could barely feel his feet, but he didn't want to move. It was nice to feel numb for a while, even if it was only for a moment.

.

Fuel bombs weren't that uncommon amongst smaller terrorist cells. Heero had watched his best friend make several during the war. Vernier fuel, however, was more difficult to procure now that mobile suit manufacturing had been outlawed by ESUN three years ago. Heero had no doubts that Jackson's splinter rebel group had made and placed that explosive, and they had probably intended on taking out as many of the Preventers agents and Gundam pilots as possible in that building. That wasn't really a big mystery.

It was a hindrance to their mission, however. They needed to collaborate on a working plan to submit to Une, and they had until tomorrow to get it completed. Heero wasn't too certain that they could make the mission plan terribly detailed; there were simply too many unknown variables. Haro chirped quietly on his stomach and Heero pet the OS unit absently. If he piloted this new Aequitas model, would it have the same argumentative and unresponsive system that they had installed in the Veritas? He was confident in his ability to pilot an unfamiliar suit, but the prospect of fighting its operating system was daunting. He traced the closed seam of Haro's earflap before realizing suddenly that he had the answers to all of these questions balanced in his navel.

"Haro," the Japanese agent addressed the unit quietly; Solo was snoring softly in the pilot's chair. The sphere perked up instantly and its ears flapped happily. "How do you interface with the Aequitas suit? Lower your volume to match mine and don't repeat yourself," he added quickly.

The orange ball answered him quietly. "HARO IS THE OPERATING SYSTEM FOR THE AEQUITAS MOBILE SUIT! DIRECT CONNECTION IS NECESSARY!"

Heero nodded and chewed his lower lip. "How does the operating system interface with its pilot?"

"DIRECT CONNECTION IS NECESSARY!" It repeated, but Heero knew that it was also answering his second question. "HEE-CHAN WILL PILOT THE AEQUITAS MANUALLY AND HARO WILL INTERFACE HIM WITH THE SUIT."

"Are you anything like the ZERO System?" He asked hesitatingly. Wing's pilot was afraid that he didn't really want to know the answer to that particular nagging question. ZERO had been difficult enough to adapt to.

"HARO IS AN ADVANCED VERSION OF THE ORIGINAL ZERO SYSTEM SOFTWARE!" It said merrily, ears flapping wildly.

"What are the differences between you and ZERO?" He snuck a glance over at Solo, and cobalt eyes met his silently. The man was listening intently to the little unit's explanation. Heero wasn't sure how long he'd been awake.

"ZERO GIVES THE PILOT OPTIONS AND STATISTICAL PROBABILITIES OF SUCCESS FOR EACH OPTION. HARO HAS NO OPTIONS. HEE-CHAN WILL PILOT THE AEQUITAS AS INSTRUCTED. HEE-CHAN WILL EXPERIENCE SENSORY REFLECTION OF ALL DAMAGE SUSTAINED BY THE AEQUITAS DURING COMBAT. IF HEE-CHAN FAILS TO OBEY HARO'S COMMANDS, CONTROL OF THE AEQUITAS WILL BE ASSUMED BY HARO."

Heero stared at the bubbly little unit in shock. Solo snorted beside him and rolled his eyes. "Get Duo to rewire that deranged little fucker before it gets you killed. You'll have no choice in attacking, defending, or running away, and you'll feel every hit that suit takes. This is fucking crazy." Wing's pilot had to agree with his brother's assessment. He kept a wary eye on the orange sphere sitting contentedly on his stomach and yelled over the back of his seat.

"_Duo_!"

.

Duo hopped up to his feet at Heero's call. He fumbled with his socks, scooped up his shoes and ran dripping into the command deck.

"Huh? What's going on?" He looked down at the Haro unit, and then gawked as it replayed everything it had said to Heero and Solo.

"Sensory reflection?" Duo echoed the Haro, his eyes growing wide. How was that even possible? Not to mention why would they make the pilot so fused with the suit? How would hurting the pilot benefit anyone? Wasn't the point of a mobile suit to be a protective shell that can enhance the user's abilities and easily be discarded in the event of damage? "Hell, if that is the fucking case, then why use suits at all?" He said loudly, staring down at the now not-so-friendly looking Haro.

"Can't you rewire this thing so it can't connect with the pilot?" Solo asked suddenly, catching Duo off guard.

"Rewire?" Duo wasn't so sure. He grabbed the Haro carefully from Heero and turned it over in his hands as it flapped wildly. "I don't even know how that kind of technology works..."

This was bad. Really, really bad. "I mean, I don't even know how this thing docks to the suit. I haven't even seen the suit."

The fact that the Haro was a modified version of that damn ZERO system was bad enough, but now it was also taking it a step further. Bodily harm of the pilot, rather than just the plain 'ol mindfuck the ZERO system put one through. It had taken almost a year of thought and study for Duo to even figure out how ZERO's influence worked.

"Haro, how does the pilot connect to the suit? Probes?"

The Haro chirped and wiggled happily, "HARO CONNECTIVITY IS DIRECT WITH USER. HEE-CHAN REFLECTION OF DAMAGE CAUSED BY ELECTROMAGNETIC RADIATION. INFRARED READERS. INFRARED."

Duo stared in awe at the cheerful little ball in his hands and then looked up at Heero with a worried expression. "Oh hell no!" He said loudly, dropping the Haro. It fell to the metal floor with a clunk and began rolling around in circles. "There is no way in Hell you are getting in a mobile suit that that's radioactive! Hell no!"

Angrily he kicked the Haro hard, sending it wailing down the hallway.

"HEE-CHAN! HEE-CHAN!" It screamed as it bounced off of the opposite wall.

"Are these people fucking crazy?" Duo was pissed. He gave the Haro a threatening look as it tried to roll toward him. "Don't you fucking move!"

The Haro flashed its eyes red and then held still, but seemed to be glaring at the American pilot. Duo reached up to rub his face with his hands. "It is something. It is always something. Bombs. Bullet wounds. Fucking radioactive mobile suits. Demonoid Hello Kitty-looking fucking operating systems..."

.

Heero and Solo stared in shock as Duo punted Haro into the rear of the ship.

"Maxwell!" Wing's pilot launched himself over the back of his chair, scooping up the OS and glaring at his partner. "It's not Haro's fault that he was programmed this way."

His brother laughed aloud. "It's not a fucking puppy, 'Ro. It's an operating system that's hell-bent on making your cute ass glow in the dark for the rest of your natural fucking life."

Heero frowned down at the orange sphere in his arms and noticed that its eyes were glowing red. When the hell had that started? "Haro, are you okay?"

"SHIN-CHAN CLASSIFICATION UPDATED. DANGER! DANGER!"

Solo was practically falling out of the pilot's seat, doubled over and laughing hard. Even Duo had lost the almost murderous look on his handsome face. "Duo is not dangerous, Haro," Heero muttered, giving his partner a pointedly chastising look. "How hazardous is an electromagnetic infrared reader?"

It was probably a stupid question, but Heero had never heard of a mobile suit that interfaced with its pilot to the point of physiobiological feedback. Where Duo had learned of this technology was lost on him, but it was obviously serious enough that Deathscythe's pilot was furious with Haro. Heero knew his own limits, however, and exposure to radioactive material was something that he'd done several times over with no apparent adverse reactions. He wasn't scared of the Aequitas, but he was a little leery of his best friend's violent reaction to the idea of him piloting the suit. What the hell was Duo's problem?

.

"He's talking to it..." Duo moaned as he put his hand over his eyes and tilted his head up. "Radioactive waves... kinda like putting you in a microwave."

Duo had a pretty decent knowledge of physics and basic sciences. He had learned about radioactive power sources on suits, but he had never in his wildest dreams had thought he would encounter a mobile suit that used it to punish the pilot for making a mistake.

"The shit causes cancer. Not to mention makes you sterile." He dropped his hand from his eyes and looked pointedly at Heero, his eyes dropping to eye the Haro suspiciously. "So I guess no little Hee-chans or Relenas will be walking around this world..." He ducked his head and scampered backwards away from the other pilot, laughing. He stumbled backwards and landed on the arm of Solo's chair and grinned. "I don't know how much of that even YOU can handle, Heero, but this is serious." He put his finger to his chin and thought on it for a moment before glancing down at Solo. "You know anything about anti-carcinogenics? I thought I read once that there is a pill you can take that will make you somewhat resistant to radioactivity..." He was thinking aloud. Then he pointed the same finger at the Haro and grinned, his damp hair shielding the fiendish glint in his eyes.

"I'll take a look at that thing. I'm gonna have to take its ears off, though..."

"SHIN-CHAN ENEMY! HEE-CHAN PROTECT HARO!"

.

Solo snickered at the OS now struggling to escape the evil look Duo was giving it. Heero scowled. "I'm already sterile," he said flatly. "My virility was never an issue; I wasn't supposed to survive the first war." He soothed the orange ball carefully, leaning back against the ship's hull and thinking. "He's not an enemy, and he won't take your ears off. He's just trying to scare you," he said distractedly. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Solo and his friend whispered conspiratorially to one another from the pilot's chair.

J had enhanced Heero to resist some fairly hardcore extremes: freezing temperatures, the burning heat of atmospheric re-entry at twice the recommended maximum velocity, every common poison and tranquilizer used by the Alliance and OZ until AC195... There wasn't much besides bullets and broken bones that actually phased the 'Perfect Soldier.' Radiation wasn't something that he had ever experienced in large doses, for prolonged periods of time, or outside of a laboratory.

"If you disable the infrared readers in the cockpit completely and override Haro's programming to take control of the suit, you can replace the radiation feedback with electricity, or some other stimulus that will injure me to the point of being convincing. Noah and the others will suspect if I never come back to the hangar with injuries. No one's that proficient a pilot." Duo looked ready to protest before Solo slid an arm around Deathscythe's pilot's waist and dragged him backwards, into his lap, and nodded to Heero.

"Sounds as sane a plan as you'd come up with." The older man turned to Duo and arched an eyebrow at his childhood friend. "You got a better idea, half-pint?"

.

Duo blinked up at Solo, shocked that he was being manhandled like a four year old. He balled up his fist, intent on decking the other pilot in the nose. Instead he threatened him with it, waving the knot of flesh just below the other agent's nose.

"Who are you calling half-pint, you fucking geezer?" He elbowed the other pilot roughly in the side as he wriggled out of his grasp and pointed down at the Haro. "I could rewire the thing, but I need to have time with the suit before you get in it."

He thought on this for a long moment before replying confidently, "We'll have to tell them I don't trust them, and I want to thoroughly inspect the suit before your first training cruise. I also will have to convince them not to watch me when I do this. I guess I'll leave all that good stuff to you two bros." He reached over to pluck the Haro from Heero's hands and started to walk towards the cargo hold. "C'mon little guy, lemme ... probe ya a little bit."

"HELP! HELP! HEE-CHAN HELP! SHIN-CHAN IS BAD MAN!"

.

Heero followed his partner into the hold, keeping a wary eye on the little sphere screaming in his hands. With the door closed securely behind them, Wing's pilot waited until Duo had convinced the OS that he wouldn't actually harm it before spinning his friend around and pushing him back against the workspace protruding from the ship's hull. "You could have died back in that Preventers building," he said evenly. "Did you think I forgot that you went off on your own looking for explosives?"

He wasn't terribly interested in hearing Duo's response. The look on the other agent's face answered him more than anything the American could have said at that moment. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless like that again?"

Haro was watching their interaction with obvious interest, but Heero ignored it. The orange sphere was a machine, a sophisticated computer-that was all. He focused instead on trying to convey to his partner with the intensity of his gaze just how serious he was. Heero'd nearly gotten himself killed trying to find Deathscythe's pilot after that blast, and the stinging pain in his left side was an unpleasant reminder of that fact. He hadn't wanted to have this conversation in front of Solo because he knew damned well that Duo would have laughed it off and completely disregarded his feelings on the matter. "Well?"

.

The Haro unit chirped as Heero drew closer to him, waiting for his response. Duo was stunned. He hadn't expected Heero to be so demanding of such an answer. He frowned and shook his head slowly while carefully lifting his hands up, palms out in a passive gesture.

"Hey... sorry, okay? I just had a feeling, and I went with it. I found the bomb, didn't I?" He said with a slight chuckle before silencing under Heero's intense glare. "I guess I shouldn't have run off on my own. I'm sorry. I do that sometimes, and I guess I can't help myself..." His voice trailed off, and his eyes broke loose from Yuy to look up at the superbly fascinating swirl design on the ceiling.

"I'm just a dumb ass. I always fuck up, and I'm sorry you got hurt. Is that what you want to hear? That it is all my fault, and that I can't follow orders, and that I am a shitty agent and a worthless partner?" He shrugged his shoulders and frowned, letting his dark violet gaze settle on Heero's intent cobalt blues. "I guess I'm just not myself, lately, right?" He was rambling, but he didn't care to stop himself. "I am having doubts about everything. About the Preventers, about our mission. I may be a dumb ass, but I just can't follow some of the mindless protocol Chang is always ranting about. I can't just ignore a threat because Une tells me to. I want to do what I think is right, and at that moment I just felt that finding the bomb instead of ignoring the fact that it existed was the right thing to do..."

Duo clenched his hands into fists and sucked in a deep breath. The Haro wobbled on the workstation. He tensed and waited for Heero to lecture him on how wrong his thinking was, and how stupid he was, and how impulsive and needlessly reckless he had been.

.

Heero rolled his eyes, grabbed Duo on either side of his jaw, and kissed him soundly. When he pulled away he raised one eyebrow and gave his partner an unfazed look. "Are you done with the self-deprecation?" When the American failed to respond Heero sighed quietly. "I shouldn't have to tell you that you aren't stupid, or an undesirable partner." He didn't clarify his meaning on that last part; let Duo interpret that how he wanted to. "It also isn't your fault that I got caught in the explosion. But we're a team. All three of us," he emphasized. "If you suspect something you have to tell one of us."

Resting his forehead against the other agent's shoulder, Heero dropped his arms to circle Duo's waist. He understood the other man's confusion about Chang's protocol and Preventers' oversight. A lot of the policies and procedures were designed to protect less experienced agents, not former Gundam pilot HCAs. To Duo, these rules and regulations seemed restrictive, nonsensical, and outright ridiculous. But they could only flaunt the rules but so much before Chang or Une stepped up to rein them in. "Just work with me, not against me," he muttered into the warmth of his friend's shirt.

It was going to be difficult to keep his feelings for the violet-eyed pilot concealed during the rest of this infiltration, and Heero knew it. Any outward affection could be used against them by the rebel faction, and it would jeopardize Heero's impartiality in the event that he had to make any critical decisions that would put his partner in harm's way. Wing's pilot was damned certain that he would find himself in a situation just like that, and soon, if this Aequitas suit was as volatile as he suspected it to be.

Haro was chirping softly beside them on the workbench. The shuttle was humming quietly around them. Heero wanted to shut out every crisis and rebellion outside of this cargo hold and just stay here for a while in the dim blue glow of the computer terminal imbedded in the bench. He wanted to stay as physically close to his partner as possible. Heero tightened his arms a bit and buried his face in the side of Duo's neck. This mission was going to be exceptionally difficult.

.

Duo had taken his kiss without resistance and then just stood there for a moment with his hands separated, hovering on either side of the Japanese pilot's shoulders as the other agent grabbed him and closed the distance between them.

Duo glanced over at the closed door before hesitantly grasping Heero by his shoulders. He felt a sudden wave of protective instinct washing over him. Suddenly he snapped his arms around the other pilot's shoulders and hugged him tightly against himself.

He didn't want Heero to go through the mobile suit training. He didn't want to see his friend zapped by mechanisms he would have to rig himself. Sure it would be better than infrared burns, but it was still going to end up with him contributing in the harm of the guy he liked.

"I love you, Heero." He said softly into the top of Heero's shaggy head. It felt nice to tell someone that. He would take a bullet for the guy. He would shoot anyone who threatened him. He would knock the block off of anyone who looked at the Japanese pilot the wrong way.

Ever since the beginning of their false Operation Meteor he had assigned himself as backup and an assistant to Heero. It had started out so small, hadn't it? Shoot the enemy as they rounded from behind. Break Yuy out of captivity.

But it had changed over time. Soon he was taking it upon himself to make sure the other pilot wasn't hurt after battles. He made sure the guy ate something. He kept an eye on Heero when he was sleeping at night.

And now he was here, years later, able to help him in a different way. He clenched his arms even tighter around the Japanese pilot as if he were about to melt away out of his grasp.

Everything was about Heero. He cared intensely if Heero was disappointed in him. He couldn't stand to see the other pilot limping around on a bum leg, or clutching a bullet wound, or sitting in a pool of his own blood.

The thought made him shudder. The Haro blinked and crooned quietly in the corner.

"You're not allowed to die on me, got it?" Duo said breathlessly into the other young man's hair, his eyes closing tightly, trying to put the image of Heero's rumpled body out of his mind.


	17. Chapter 17  SLASH

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN  
>[Day 14] Spaceport L3<br>WARNING: SLASH AHEAD

When Heero's internal clock woke him at 0500hrs universal time he ignored it and shifted backwards, closer to the warm body curled around his. They had completed their mission plan late last night, and all three agents had promptly found spaces to sleep and passed out. Solo was still snoring from where he lay stretched between the two pilot's seats, a patched old blanket covering his lithe frame. Haro was a silent presence in the crook of Heero's elbow, rolled up compactly against his chest. Wing's pilot sighed quietly and ignored the pain in his left side where Duo's arm was slung possessively around his waist. The lacerations weren't nearly as important as the contact, though. They'd been huddled together under another spare blanket, heads together in the dim light that Haro had been able to provide, triple-checking their mission plan. Heero didn't remember falling to sleep on the deck of the ship, but that didn't matter.

The mission forced its way into his mind and Heero let his eyes slide closed once more. It was going to be a difficult one; of that, Wing's pilot was certain. He and Duo were going to have to modify the operating system and hardware in their Aequitas unit without being detected, and Heero was still going to have to produce desirable results in training in order to stay in the program. Noah would be scrutinizing them closely, and in order to maintain their cover they were going to have to play their parts flawlessly. Solo would act as their buffering tool whenever possible to distract Noah and the other rebels from the tampering being done to Heero's suit, and as soon as they were ready to launch, Solo would notify Chang to bring in the calvary. It was critical that they waited until the very last moment to call in the Preventers strike force-the suits needed to be completely operational, because Une wanted them in Preventers custody for several reasons: she wanted her HCAs to have weapons in the event of a similar crisis, the suits' OS needed to be evaluated and archived, and they would need evidence with which to prosecute the Hathcock Project.

In the meantime, Duo would have to reconfigure Haro to give the Japanese agent complete command of their Aequitas unit. He would also have to do a quick study on the infrared readers installed in the suit and replicate the technology with something less lethal. He had grudgingly agreed to some type of electrostatic array that Heero would activate manually with a command given to Haro. His partner had been extremely apprehensive about the entire idea at first, but even Duo could see the significance of the plan. Solo had found some morbid humor in the Deathscythe pilot constructing mechanisms to injure his best friend, and when Duo had threatened to 'knock his teeth down his fucking throat,' Solo had thrown up his hands and stalked off.

This training would be brutal, if Noah's attitude was any indication. The only wildcard variable that Heero couldn't even begin to consider was Lowe. He had no idea why the man was involved with a colonial uprising; eleven years ago he'd been on the Alliance's payroll. Heero had no way of speculating on the man's motives; he honestly didn't particularly care why the sniper had left an eight year old boy alone to wander a colony until J had picked him up and used him as a laboratory rat. Regardless of his childhood's strange progression-what little of it he could remember-if it hadn't taken the path that it had then he never would have been a part of Operation Meteor, however modified it had been. He never would have met any of the other pilots, or Relena and their other acquaintances. He never would have woken up on the cold deck of an undercover Preventers ship with his partner curled against his back like a second skin.

Haro beeped quietly and rolled forward into Heero's chest a few times before settling down. The blue-eyed pilot disentangled the fingers of his left hand from Duo's and reached up to the neck of his tee shirt, extracting the dog tags he'd worn since the Eve War. They glinted silver in the soft predawn light of sunrise as L3 continued its endless rotation of Earth. The tags were standard-issued Preventers identification, worn by agents who often had reason to ditch their official IDs and badges, and HCAs certainly fell into that category. Most tags contained the same type of information: surname, first name, blood type, date of birth, badge number, place of origin, and religious preference. Heero's tags were different. He wasn't sure if the other pilots wore theirs, but he had worn one of his and one of Duo's since the day they'd been issued the damned things. Heero held his own tag up to the light and smirked:

HCA AZRAEL  
>CLASSIFIED<br>O+  
>UNKNOWN<br>VX-543-890  
>SHINTO<p>

Duo's tag was much the same, but his had a bit more information:

HCA DUMAH  
>MAXWELL, DUO<br>AB+  
>UNKNOWN<br>VX-543-891  
>ORTHODOX CATHOLIC<p>

Heero had questioned his friend about his religious affiliation, but Duo had laughed it off at the time. Sometimes Wing's pilot wondered, though. His own religious designation had been something of an inside joke between himself and Chang, but he supposed that once he died it wouldn't really matter anymore. As with most paramilitary organizations, dogtags had a certain set of rules about them. An agent wore two tags, one on the standard chain, the second on a short chain looped through the first. In the event that the agent was killed in action, the shorter chain and tag were removed and brought in to identify him as deceased. Since Heero's tags didn't match, whoever recovered his would inform Une that Duo Maxwell had died in the line of duty. He would inevitably be found, alive and whole, and then someone would realize which agent was actually missing. The delay in notification would stop the other agent from rushing recklessly into some half-cocked rescue mission and endangering himself needlessly. It had seemed like an ingenius plan at the time. Heero and Duo had swapped one tag each as eagerly as children with collectible cards.

Laying on the floor of the ship, Duo holding him securely against his chest and breathing softly into the back of his neck, it didn't seem so funny now. His partner was honestly terrified that Heero wouldn't survive the mobile suit training program. When Duo Maxwell began to lose confidence in his abilities then perhaps Heero was in over his head and just hadn't realized it. Hindsight was always perfect, after all. In this particular instance, however, it didn't really matter. As Solo had observed aloud last night, they were 'balls deep in this mission now, and pulling out would just end in a messy situation.' Heero hadn't wanted to dwell too long on that mental image. He had enough tension when it came to his best friend.

Haro whirred mutely and Duo stirred behind him, tightening his hold around Heero's slim waist and nuzzling into his neck. The Japanese agent hissed slightly at the burning sensation that raced down his left side, and then he was certain that his partner was awake. Rolling onto his back, Heero's cobalt eyes sought out the dark violet of his friend's in the almost-light. Wing's pilot reached up and brushed Duo's shaggy hair from his face and blinked lazily. Heero promised himself then and there that, if they survived this mission and made it back to Brussels, he wouldn't take a single moment spent with his partner for granted. Duo was one hell of a sight to wake up to in the morning, and his half-asleep smile was gorgeous. Heero had fallen, hard and fast, and he was completely at ease with that now. His biggest problem now seemed to involve reigning in his rampaging libido. He knew they had a limited amount of time before they had to go back to the resource satellite, and that, once there, his physical contact with his partner would be exceptionally limited. So how was he to convince Duo that they should continue what they'd started back at Maxwell Scrap, before his brother had come storming into the place and ruined everything?

Realistically, Heero had no idea what would have happened once he'd gotten Duo's pants around his thighs. He had been content to push against him and kiss the man senseless. He was certain there was more to it than that, however. Asking Duo outright was out of the question-Heero's pride aside, he sincerely doubted that demanding to know the mechanics behind the consummation of homosexual intercourse would either incline Duo to show him or impress the man at all. Wing's pilot chewed his lower lip slowly and hugged Haro closer. "I love you," he said, his voice soft and low. He wondered if that was the correct way to greet someone at five in the morning, on the cold, cramped floor of a Preventers ship. Heero really wasn't cut out for this, but he cared enough about Duo that he would try.

.

Duo grinned. He had never seen Heero look more innocent and completely harmless than at this moment. And to think that the guy used to threaten to kill him on a daily basis.

It was dark, and only a dim light from the sun rising over the Earth penetrated the rectangular window just over the control panel. Its pale yellow light fell on the opposite wall before crawling cautiously up behind Heero to illuminate the back of his head. Duo squinted as the morning light shone in his eyes making everything else dark in comparison aside from the image of his best friend lying in front of him.

"You're so cute-" Duo blurted, and then noticed Heero's eyes widen in an accusatory stare. "... What?" The American pilot grinned sheepishly before reaching over to grab the Haro off of Heero's stomach. The orange ball wiggled and blinked in protest, but luckily had the decency to stay silent. He set it on the ground behind him before muttering, "Stay." It wiggled a few times before settling down in the shadows.

Duo reached over and touched the dog tags that Heero had revealed, hanging loosely around his neck against the outside of his shirt. "We'll have to take these off, you know. Being undercover and all," he whispered softly, his fingertip gently tracing Heero's name stamped in the silvery metal. He didn't know what he would do if the Japanese pilot died. There had been many close calls in the past. At first the idea had been a horrifying one because if someone had managed to kill Yuy then the rest of them didn't stand a chance. Then the feeling was that of camaraderie. It was hard to accept Heero would die because he was 'one of them' and couldn't be taken from the group. But then Duo felt like, even though Heero was a part of the Gundam pilot group, he was inherently his partner. If Heero were to die, he would be alone again.

He could handle being alone in the past, but he wasn't sure how he could cope knowing how reliant on the Wing pilot he had become.

Duo heard Solo shift in his sleep between the seats just a few feet away. This would be the last time they would be relatively alone and free to say and do as they pleased before landing on the resource satellite. Duo felt a strange heat rise up in his chest. He felt it slowly creep down his body, igniting a part of him that had been recently neglected.

Heero was unbelievably handsome. Especially now, staring back at him with an expectant expression. Duo knew he was waiting for him to make the first move. He knew Heero had no idea what he was doing. This brought a sly smile to his face. Finally, something Heero Yuy wasn't good at.

He let the hand he had used to toy with the dog tags slip down the Japanese pilot's chest, ghost carelessly over his stomach, and then creep under the pilot's shirt. He propped his head on his opposite elbow and grinned, whispering playfully, "Keep quiet."

Heero's skin was hot beneath his palm as he rested his hand against the Wing pilot's stomach. He could feel the nervous quiver of the other young man's abdomen as he touched him. He deftly inverted his hand and slid his fingertips slowly down to pass the hem of Heero's jeans. He felt the Japanese man's muscles tighten underneath his fingers as he sought out Yuy's inevitably hard erection.

When his hand finally found it he felt Heero jump. He quickly grabbed the other pilot with his free hand and yanked him closer, pressing him against his body. He didn't know what Heero would do. He thought maybe he would try to fight back and stop him, or maybe he would be angry. Duo wasn't entirely sure this was what Heero wanted, but at this point he didn't care. It was what_he_wanted.

It felt nice to have control over the other pilot. He liked watching Heero squirm against his hand. When the other pilot tried with a shaking hand to touch him he batted his hand away and whispered, "No. Just relax, let me do this."

He stroked the other pilot slowly with a firm hand while encircling Yuy's shoulders with his free arm, pinning him against his body. His own erection throbbed as Yuy's body made contact with it. He reflexively rocked against him, unable to help seeking out a self-deprived friction from the other pilot. He was frustrated, but completely determined to get Heero off. It was his personal mission. He wanted Heero to let him take over, and to trust him. He wanted to make the Japanese pilot feel good, and not feel guilty about it.

He wasn't sure if he was accomplishing those goals. But he was going to try. He felt Heero's body shaking against him. He was surprised at how quiet he was being, but that was Heero for ya. Following orders, no matter what. Duo glanced over at the lump that was Solo sleeping by the command console before looking down at Heero's flushed face. He smiled brightly before leaning down to kiss Heero full on the mouth before whispering mutedly, "You're so fucking hot."

.

Any nineteen-year-old male who claimed that he had never woken up with an erection and beat off in the shower was a fucking liar. Heero knew damned well what his partner was doing, but he didn't know that he wanted to stop it. Duo's body was warm against him, his hand was warmer, and the friction and pressure were making him shake uncontrollably. It was a total loss of self-control and situational control; it was frightening. That didn't stop his body from pushing into the Deathscythe pilot's grip.

The familiar coiling spring of release was much more intense than the few times that Heero had done this alone. When it did reach that event horizon that inevitably followed, Heero's head snapped back against the deck of their shuttle and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making any noise. He was shaking violently. It felt like every muscle in his body had stretched to its limit and then the tension was suddenly gone, leaving him to sag back against his partner and pant quietly.

Where the hell had that come from? Heero couldn't find the energy to ask. Instead, he blinked open hazy eyes and watched Duo's face for any signs of regret, anxiety, or need. He had felt the man pressed against him, but he wasn't sure about the reciprocation process. Besides, when he'd tried, Duo had smacked his hand away. Was that how this worked? Wing's pilot didn't have any issue with allowing Duo to determine the exact nature of their relationship, but he genuinely _wanted _to touch the other agent. Badly. Maybe it had to be done on Duo's terms? Heero's head was beginning to hurt...

Rolling onto his back, Heero pulled the American with him as gently as possible. Manhandling the other pilot didn't seem like the best course of action. When Duo was on his hands and knees over Heero on the deck, the Japanese pilot reached up carefully and undid Duo's belt, slowly, carefully, keeping eye contact the entire time. "I know there's more to it than that," Heero said softly. "I trust you." That was really all he needed to say. Deathscythe's pilot would either accept him or reject him now. As much as that rejection would sting, at least then Heero would know that their relationship's physical aspect was completely determined by his partner. It was a useful bit of information.

There was something overwhelmingly erotic about having Duo over him like this. The loss of control wasn't something that Heero experienced often-if ever-but like this, with his partner... He trusted Duo completely. This felt like second nature, like the natural order of things, or something that was simply supposed to happen. It was strange because the entire concept of sexual relations with another man, Duo, or anyone for that matter was entirely foreign to Heero, but he knew instinctively that this arrangement was acceptable, desirable even.

When Duo's belt and pants hung open on his narrow hips, Heero reached instead for the dogtags under his partner's shirt, using the chain to gently pull his friend down to him. He leaned up, meeting him halfway, and kissed him. It was unhurried, intense. Wing's pilot was so head over heels for his partner that it was almost a little pathetic.

At least, that's what Solo said.

Heero realistically couldn't have given a fuck less what his brother thought about his relationship with his partner. He loved the reckless, loudmouthed idiot, and that was that. Burying a hand in Duo's hair to deepen the kiss, Heero tugged on his friend's dogtags until the other pilot was flush against him, chest to chest. The burning in his side didn't matter. The dull ache in his bullet-wounded thigh didn't matter. His brother sleeping less than a yard away didn't matter. Once they left this spaceport he might never get the opportunity to do this again, and he poured all of that anxiety and need into kissing Duo senseless. Heero wasn't proficient at explaining things of this nature, but he could damned well _show _Duo.

Arching his back slightly, Heero ground his erection into its match above him. Damned if that didn't feel great. Rocking up against Duo seemed completely natural, and Heero continued in a slow, steady rhythm, never breaking contact with the other pilot's mouth. It was addictive. After several moments of struggling to remain silent and slowly losing his control, Heero pulled away from the other man's lips and looked up at him with dark cobalt eyes. Duo looked ready to bolt. He had seen that expression on his handsome face enough to recognize it for what it was. "Please don't," was all Heero could say.

.

Duo hadn't expected Heero to take over like he had. He was hesitant about it. It wasn't that he didn't trust him. He certainly did. He was turned on and ready to go, but there was a nagging voice deep inside him that was telling him to put a stop to it. To run.

Duo knew why. As he found himself grinding down against the Wing pilot he knew. _If I do this... and I lose him... it is going to hurt. _His lust was trying desperately to override his hesitation. With every kiss and rocking motion from Heero the voice inside began to dissipate, but it was still there. He felt like a feral cat being pet. Eventually the petting would become too much, the emotional control would become too apparent, and he would have to flee from it.

When the kissing had stopped he was gasping for breath, being unbelievably loud, but not caring anymore if Solo heard him. He was sure the other super soldier was more than aware of what was going on a few feet behind him.

Duo was about to put the brakes on Heero's advances when the other pilot looked up at him pleadingly and begged him not to. The sight alone made Duo feel intensely guilty, and he stared down at the other pilot wide-eyed for a moment. A stark realization had stunned him. Heero needed him. And, conversely, Duo needed Heero. Not just in the physical sense of the need. They were still lusty youths who on all accounts had been repressed sexually due to the demands of the wars and battles. This was inherently true, but Duo realized he also needed someone to be weak with. Someone to let see him like this, and take control over him for once.

It was a shocking realization. He stiffened his arms on either side of Heero's head and paused his grinding of his crotch against the other's pilot hips. He rested his forehead against the Wing pilot's shoulder and sighed.

"You're so perfect, you make me fucking sick..." Duo said quietly against Heero's shoulder. He smiled. He was truly happy. Finally satisfied with the situation Duo wasted no time in shoving Heero's hand down to his own waiting erection. A deliciously satisfied feeling flared up from the source of his lust as the other pilot manipulated him to the point of climax. He bit his lip and tensed, trying his best not to collapse on the other pilot as his body practically exploded with uncontrollable spasms. He moaned loudly as he slumped his head against the Wing pilot's chest, gasping breathlessly, "Fuck..." He couldn't stop shaking. Everything was firing in overdrive. He twitched involuntarily and looked up at Yuy through the thick fringe of his bangs, "I... wow. You're good at that."

.

Heero chuckled quietly. He pushed lightly on the inside of Duo's elbows, causing his arms to collapse, and held his partner to his chest while he fought to regain control of his breathing. His own hips were still working slowly and methodically against the American's weight. Fuck, did his best friend do wonders for his repressed libido...

Duo's volume moments before had almost certainly woken Solo. He was probably sitting at the main console, trying valiantly to ignore them. For some reason that fueled a possessive streak in Heero that he hadn't realized he had. Duo's lean frame rested comfortably against his chest and stomach, and Wing's pilot took the other agent's hips in his hands, using them as leverage to grind up into him.

It was just a little ridiculous that an L2-bred street rat and terrorist could stimulate Heero to the point of him denying logic, rational thought, and common sense. Should he be grinding against his partner on the deck of a Preventers ship while his brother feigned ignorance a few feet away? Probably not, but fuck if he cared anymore. If Heero had listened to every shred of training and experience he'd ever picked up, he never would have fallen for his best friend, he would have shot his brother, and his vocabulary never would have expanded beyond crude military jargon and the occasional medical term.

If this was their last chance at any form of sexual contact in the foreseeable future, Heero was going to exploit it to the best of his abilities, and touching his partner had gotten him beyond riled up again. Teenaged hormones were miraculous things, and he wasn't exactly a typical nineteen-year-old male.

Heero butted his head gently against Duo's, whispering to him roughly, his voice constricted by the tension in his body as he pushed, rocked, and strained against his partner. "Look at me." it wasn't a command, but a request. When the American turned his head to the side and met his gaze with dark violet eyes, Heero lost it. His arms came up, holding Duo tightly against him as his back locked up and that familiar mindlessness of release assaulted him again. Hands shaking, chest heaving, Heero felt boneless and completely content for the first time in weeks.

When he opened his eyes again, Solo was standing over them, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow arched and scowling. Heero met his annoyed cobalt eyes with a blank expression, hands running idly over Duo's sides. "You two are unfuckingbelievable, y'know that? A guy can't even get some sleep around here without you pervy little bastards dry-humping right behind him!" His brother ran a hand through his hair in irritation before stomping into the cargo hold. Heero heard him slam the door and lock it from the inside. Wing's pilot snorted and buried his face in his partner's soft hair.

.

Duo hadn't bothered to look up as Solo stood over them. He stared at the other agent's boots as they stomped off in the direction of the cargo hold. When the door slammed he bit his lower lip and began to shake with laughter. He was so relaxed and contented he could't give a fuck what his former childhood friend thought about any of this.

It was what he needed, and it was what Heero needed, too. He pushed himself back and sat straddling the Wing pilot's waist, smirking in his amusement.

"What a fucking mess," he mumbled playfully, looking down at the various dampened spots on their clothes.

Just then the Haro, which had been lurking just beneath the Captain's chair, rolled out onto the floor and blinked.

"APPROACHING DESTINATION. APPROACHING DESTINATION. THIRTY-SEVEN MINUTES UNTIL DOCKING PROCEDURES."

Duo blinked then smiled down at his partner, "Well. Time to get to work, right Ritter?" He emphasized with a fiendish wink.

NOTE:

[[ HEY! BHG here. *wavies* Hope everyone is having a fantastic summer! If you've made it this far, then you deserve a cookie. :D As I mentioned in the opening chapter, this work is a product of my and brkstrtrcr's RP that was begun July 4, 2011 to today, July 29, 2011. As of this chapter you are completely caught up, so the rest will be trickling in as fast as we write it.

It has been insanely fun writing with brkstrtrcr. This isn't the end by any means, I just figured after the obligatory slash chapter I would write a few little notes.

Holler if you're a Gundam fan! I love Gundam, and so when given the opportunity to play with the technology I thought, "HEY! Let's incorporate some Universal Century Gundam technology in here." So we have the Haro crossing over into the A.C. world for a bit of fun. Prepare to see more, and see if you can spot the references.

There will actually be an end to this fic, I promise. And a sequel. We are already planning something, if you haven't caught the not-so-subtle statements Heero and Duo have been dropping throughout.

I am aware that the fic needs more revision, and a lot more editing. We've been pumping out posts like crazy, and I haven't been able to get my beta readers to catch up. It will all be fixed in time. We had a little hiccup in our posting when LJ decided to crap out on us, so now we're playing primarily on pro boards forums. (.com) If anyone is interested in future campaigns, give us a poke there.

Okay, that's it! There is still more to come! ]]


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN  
>[Day 14] MO- 49573<p>

As Haro hailed the docking station of the resource satellite, all three Preventers agents stood at the bridge of their ship and stared at one another with appraising looks. They had destroyed their Preventers jackets in a controlled space hatch opening about twenty minutes ago. Heero and Duo's dogtags were safely hidden inside Haro, and they were once again wearing their pilfered Sweepers uniforms. From the moment they docked, they were no longer partners, best friends, siblings, or fellow agents. They weren't super soldiers or Gundam pilots. They were rogue Sweepers with a grudge against ESUN and an axe to grind on behalf of the colonies. They were colonial rebels. They were a pilot-mechanic-flight sergeant team. Heero took in his brother's grim smile and his partner's determined frown and nodded once to himself. They could do this.

"No regrets, bro?" Solo chuckled quietly. Heero had learned that the former Pilot 00 laughed when he was nervous or worried.

"None," he answered confidently. His blue eyes surveyed Duo slowly. Even with his hair bound up in that shaggy ponytail and his frame hidden under the beat-up old Sweepers jacket, Deathscythe's pilot was still gorgeous. "This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you," the Japanese agent mused, a smirk curving his lips. Duo rolled his eyes, grabbed him by the back of his neck, and kissed him roughly before pushing him away and turning his back on the two brothers.

There was no escort waiting for them in the terminal, this time. Instead, a tired-looking Commander Lowe was sitting on a stack of shipping crates and smoking a cigarette when they exited their ship after decompression. He waved vaguely, and Heero tensed unconsciously. Haro, recently reprogrammed, chirped excitedly and flapped his ears from the circle of the Wing pilot's arms. "COMMANDER LOWE! COMMANDER LOWE!"

The older man grinned at the OS unit. He pushed himself up wearily, his spine cracking with an unpleasant popping noise, and came to stand before his new crew members. "You're the last team to get here," he said evenly. Keen grey eyes surveyed the three young men, and Odin nodded quietly. He purposefully avoided Heero's heated eyes; when he spoke again he was addressing Solo at first, but the resemblance to his brother was obviously making him uncomfortable. He turned to Duo instead, but found something even in the violet-eyed pilot that made him uncomfortable. "You three need to accompany me topside. I have some materials to give you in my office."

As soon as Lowe's back was turned on them and the man began walking, Solo darted a glance over his shoulder, eyebrow flagged in question at Heero. Wing's pilot shook his head sharply, but his eyes indicated to the other man that there was certainly something odd going on. The commander was too important to deal with pilots and mechanics. Solo, as their flight sergeant, was perhaps the only one of their motley group who was important enough to speak directly to the commander. Heero decided that they were either going to be getting some answers soon, or they would be very dead soon.

His mind flew through scenarios, statistics, and calculations at roughly one half the speed of Haro's processors, but the thoughts fell from his mind like water through a sieve at the edgy glint to Duo's beautiful violet eyes. What if they died here? Every mission carried a certain likelihood of casualty; during the first war they had deployed on dozens of missions with survival rates which ZERO had determined were less than ten percent. The difference now was that he had two people with him whose lives he could not-would not-risk in order to complete their objectives.

It conflicted with every shred of training he'd had beaten into him as a child, by Lowe's hand, by J's hand, by the wars and the Preventers, but Heero knew in his gut that he would no longer be able to sacrifice the lives of his partners to achieve a goal given to him by Preventers, ESUN, or anyone else.

Could he put them in harm's way? Affirmative.

Could he watch them get injured, maimed, or wounded? Affirmative.

Could he leave them behind or allow them to be killed? Negative.

His thoughts had preoccupied him up several flights of stairs and down a short corridor. Lowe paused outside a door, held his palm to its scanner, and held the door open expectantly for the three young men behind him. Once inside the office, the door closed with the finality of a lethal gunshot and Lowe turned to face them, arms crossed angrily over his chest, glaring directly at Heero. "What the fuck are you doing here, kid?"

Heero failed to respond. He couldn't determine whether or not their cover had been blown, if Lowe recognized him as his former protégé, Wing's pilot, or HCA Azrael. His partners, however, understood the threat implied in Lowe's body language and backed up a step, sandwiching Heero between them and tensing for a brawl. Lowe snorted and shook his head almost ruefully. "Stand down, soldiers. I know who you are. I'm not stupid enough to pick a fight with two Gundam pilots."

Solo looked stunned. Duo looked flighty. Heero scowled. "Yeah," Lowe chuckled without humor, "I knew it was you the second I laid eyes on you, kiddo. Never thought you'd have ended up working for the colonies and that quack J, though."

Apparently Lowe knew a lot. "I'm glad he picked you up, though. I was worried that you'd get snatched by some kiddie rapist or something, maybe sent to foster care on L1. You'd probably have ended up in jail with what I taught you." Heero bristled but said nothing. "I had to fake out on you, kid. Don't get pissy. It was either play dead or spend the rest of my life dodging the Barton Foundation." Lowe chuckled at that. "But I guess you killed them all a few years ago, didn't you?"

Heero didn't find any of this terribly amusing. "What do you want?" he asked quietly, his voice low and dangerous.

Lowe sighed. "I want to know why you three are getting mixed up in this. I know who you work for. I can't let you sabotage this operation. I've got a lot of money riding on this."

Wing's pilot gave up on impulse control, mission parameters, and self-discipline. He lunged towards his former mentor, intent on snapping his neck. Only Duo's lightening-quick reflexes and Solo's impossibly strong hold on him kept him from doing so. Lowe didn't even flinch as Heero growled at him, bucking against the deathgrip his brother had around his chest and waist. "We fought for years to end the wars, to stop mobile suit production, and you're leading this entire fucking operation for_money_?"

Lowe snorted. "Yeah, well, my funds from before the war ran out a while back, and I need something to retire on. I had a feeling you hero types would show up and attempt to infiltrate, so I have a proposition for you."

Heero stopped struggling and settled for glaring at the man who had taught him everything he knew about guns, scopes, and double-tapping center mass. Had Lowe always been this cold, this heartless? As a child Heero hadn't had cause to consider it, but in retrospect he supposed that anyone who made a living indiscriminately murdering targets he knew nothing about had to possess less than optimal moral standards.

Solo spoke up when it became apparent that Heero wouldn't. "Whaddaya want, old man?" he seethed.

Lowe rolled his eyes. "I don't particularly want to see mobile suits unleashed on ESUN, but I want the paychecks these pukes are giving me. Help me crack their accounts and liquidate them and I'll keep you covered long enough to call in your forces and take out these suits."

It was a surprisingly reasonable offer. Heero was too angry to mull it over completely, though. He sagged back slightly in Solo's grip, deferring to the older agent's judgment. "Fine," his brother snapped after a moment. "But you keep what you know about us on the fucking down-low or we're going to have a serious goddamned problem."

Lowe nodded. "Fine. I know about these two," he gestured to Heero and Duo, "Because his cute ass," he pointed to the American, "Was plastered all over the vidscreen a few years ago, and I practically raised this one," he pointed at Wing's pilot. "I'd recognize that mop of hair anywhere." There was a peculiar fondness to his words that made Heero want to break things. "I don't know who the hell you are, though," he said to Solo, "Or why you two look like twins."

Solo's grin was malicious. "And it'll stay that way. Now do your job so we can do ours."

That seemed to be the end of the conversation. Lowe nodded, told them he'd be back with Noah in a little while, and left them in his office. When the door clicked shut behind him, Heero sank out of Solo's stranglehold and sat sharply on the floor. His brother whistled loudly in frustration. "This is either going to work out really well or kill us," he muttered. "And how the hell does that guy know you, 'Ro?"

.

Duo had been transfixed by Odin Lowe. The man was so casual about everything, but he supposed that was how a hit man should be. He watched as the older man left the room, and in doing so left Heero completely pissed off. At Solo's inquiry about who Odin was to Heero he simply chose not to comment. If Heero wanted to tell Solo about the guy, he would. It wasn't his place to say. The door to the room hissed open and the portly Sergeant James from Duo's entrance exam appeared.

"Johnson!" The man barked impatiently, pointing at Duo with a grease-stained finger three times as thick as Duo's own, "Time to get to work, boy." The American pilot flinched at the label of 'boy'. He could tell that James was still irritated from their last encounter. The man was giving him a skeptical glare. Duo knew the man didn't trust him.

"Yeah-yeah, I'm coming…" Duo groaned. He went to take the Haro OS from Heero.

"Nuh-uh, kid. The operating system stays with the pilot," James said flatly before thumbing his enormous hand in the direction of the hallway. "Let's go! I don't have all fucking day."

Duo blinked, shrugged and gave the other two agents a playful salute. "See you guys later," he said cheerfully, trying his best to reassure the practically lethal-looking Heero Yuy that he would be okay.

He had followed the Sergeant through the labyrinth of hallways that wound deep within the resource satellite, past unlabeled doors and grim-faced workers in yellow and black jumpsuits. Duo wondered what those colors meant. A few of the people in the jumpsuits were standing around beside an elevator, muttering to one another. When James paused to wait for the elevator one of the men wearing a jumpsuit winked at Duo. The American straightened his posture and clenched his hands into fists.

"What are you winking at, John-Boy?" Duo snarled at the man, catching him completely off guard. The man's comrades began to laugh at him. "Got something in your eye?" Duo shook his fist menacingly, "Keep that shit up and I'll put something there for you."

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. James stepped inside and Duo followed. He kept his glare on Jumpsuit John until the doors slid closed. The Deathscythe pilot's stomach did a back flip as the elevator suddenly dropped quickly into the underbelly of the satellite.

"You're insane," James muttered after a moment. He sounded amused. Duo glanced over at him before stretching his arms over his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet, as if preparing for a boxing match.

"Yeah. I am, and don't you forget it." Duo said with a grin, satisfied that he had established that he was unpredictable and a spitfire. Duo had learned in the past that the first thing to keep yourself safe in enemy territory is to make them believe you were completely crazy. If you did that, then anything suspicious you ended up doing could be written off as 'geez, that kid is fucking nuts'. He also learned that you had to let the enemy know that you wouldn't go down with a fight.

Threatening Jumpsuit had been a risk, but now that he had done it, the others would be hesitant to approach him. He was small, and he was soon realizing he was one of the youngest people here aside from Noah and his comrades. He had to let them know he wouldn't put up with their shit.

Outer space did that to people. It made them crazy, and being locked up in a place like this did things to people's personalities. Sometimes men would question themselves, and act out of line just to feel like they were someone different than what their trainers were molding them to be.

Sometimes, when people hurt you over and over again, you just want to hurt someone else for a change. Duo had made the mistake once while being undercover of being the 'nice guy', and he had been on the receiving end of someone's need to hurt. He had learned a lesson then. Don't let them think they have any power over you. Don't let them think they can talk to you. Don't let them think that you can be friends.

Especially with Sweepers and soldiers. These were people who cared only about themselves. It was out of necessity. It was the only way to survive.

The elevator stopped abruptly and the doors cranked noisily open, revealing an empty white cement hallway. James stomped down the hall and up to a secure door. He punched in a code, scanned his hand and stood back as the door grinded open. Duo immediately recognized the scene beyond the door.

It was the mobile suit hangar. The same one that Noah had shown them only a few days ago. He stepped inside slowly and took it all in. New suits, thirty of them, lining the walls. Scores of people were milling around the feet of the mobile suits. Mechanics scampering across catwalks, large crates were stacked high against the cold metal walls, and there were spools the size of school buses thick with rubber-coated wire. The place smelled like metal, silicon and axel grease. Duo took a deep breath and smiled.

What a shame that he was going to have to blow this place up.

"These are the Veritas mobile suits. We have thirty of these bad boys. Your little boyfriend upstairs is going to be piloting one of these," James said plainly as he led Duo across the open floor towards one of the Veritas models. Duo tensed. Boyfriend? Did he mean… "You might not want to piss off the guys in the bumblebee suits, boy. They are elite fighters, and they are hardened pilots. If they want to comment on how tight your ass is, you fucking let them, because they're the ones putting their lives on the line."

Duo blinked and grinned. Oh, he was talking about the queer from upstairs. For a moment there it sounded like he was talking about Heero. Duo made a mental note that the next time he saw Heero and everyone was watching them he would punch him in the face and yell at him about something. He would have to make sure nobody suspected a thing. It was going to be hard to act casual around the Japanese pilot now that he couldn't look at him without thinking about the delicious heat from his hard cock, and the way he shuddered helplessly against his body when he came in his hand…

"Fuck…" Duo mumbled under his breath and shook his head roughly, trying to dismiss those memories from his head. It was time for work. He really needed to stop getting distracted.

"You say something?" James had turned around and was staring at him now with his burly arms crossed, his bearded face pinched up with concern.

"Uh, yeah. Fuck, these suits are nice!" Duo exclaimed, his voice echoing across the vast cavern of the hangar, drawing looks from the other mechanics. James sighed and shook his head before leading the tour once more.

"Your pal Ritter will be piloting a different suit. The Aequitas model. We managed to get them here earlier than expected. They still need to be cleared before flight, so that is what we'll be doing today. You seemed to know a lot about mecha, boy, but I guarantee that you've never seen something like this before, so you better pay attention. If you fuck up, it is your pilot that is going to suffer."

Duo feigned ignorance but knew to what the man was referring. The reflection system that the Haro had mentioned. The pilot was going to feel the effect of a hit on the mobile suit. He still didn't understand the rationale behind that. The thought of Heero wincing and convulsing in pain as his suit was struck by a patrol cruiser made him feel nauseous. He would have to try his best to modify the system. He just didn't know if he could manage to try anything sneaky under the watchful eye of this man James. It was as if he knew what Duo was thinking even now. The man's dark eyes were regarding him with a steady gaze, his bear-like arms still curled over his enormous barrel of a chest.

Duo was vaguely aware that if the man suspected anything he would find himself with a snapped neck in no time.

"You are responsible for troubleshooting the mecha, maintaining it if it receives damage, and doing any modifications that will suit your pilot." The man was leading him past the Veritas suits to a small doorway on the western side of the hangar. He opened the door with another scanner. Inside was a faint blue light, but otherwise it was dark. "Here is where you'll be working. As you have probably guessed, I am going to keep an eye on you. It is protocol. You'll be working here with a few other mechanics. Once you enter this hangar you'll know too much, and so you won't be able to leave."

Duo's eyes widened. Through the doorway the blue light began to glow brighter, illuminating two neat rows of mobile suits. They were painted light blue, with dark blue accenting. Each had a pair of white wings. Eerily similar to those of Wing Zero custom.

"You won't be able to bring these secrets out with you," James said slowly. Duo could feel his eyes on him. He turned to face the man and grinned.

"If I can't leave, then where do I take a piss?"

The man smirked and motioned inside the door. "You have living quarters in there. And meals are brought in. You can communicate with your pilot via a comm-link. Of course, those conversations will be monitored. Once we clear the suits for use the pilots will be able to enter here. I am sure even a kid like you can understand why we can't let the secrets of the Aequitas leave this hangar."

Duo's mind was racing. This wasn't going to be as easy as he had hoped. These guys weren't as dumb as he had hoped, either. They were going to have him in lock-down. He wasn't going to be able to tell Heero or Solo anything classified. They were just going to have to trust him to do his best on his end. He knew he could handle it, but the idea of being completely and utterly alone and isolated from the only two people who could help him was a haunting thought.  
>"Yeah. I get it," Duo said with a confidence he didn't necessarily feel. He smiled brightly and stepped into the hangar. When the secure doors slammed to a close he looked up at the nearest Aequitas suit. So this was the secret weapon.<p>

It looked just like the original Wing Gundam, sans the trademark crest on the head. He gawked up at it, eyes wide in surprise. It was the spitting image of Wing. Everything, from the design of the chest hatch to the spacing of the joints. It had custom feathered wings, he assumed some sort of tribute to that Hathcock guy the group was named after.

"Welcome to your new home. There is the supply room. The heavy machinery is located at the far end there. You can use one of the carts to lug some things around. This hangar is attached to the launch deck, so it stretches a good ways back. A young kid like you should have no problem getting around here." James said, leading the way deeper into the hangar. Duo looked around at all of the sophisticated tools lying scattered about. Computers lined workbenches in front of each suit. On the far wall was a giant shelf, covered in Haros. Each one was a different color. They were sitting on docks, their eyes were glowing a pale green color. An older man was sitting a table in front of them furiously working on a laptop.  
>"Why are those Haros there? I thought you said they stay with the pilot?" Duo asked as they passed the OS workstation. James pointed to the feet of one of the Aequitas suits. A man in black coveralls was toying with a Haro at the foot of it.<p>

"Those are spares. And defects. Some of them are ridden with viruses. You wouldn't believe how temperamental those things are. In my day we didn't need artificial intelligence to pilot a mobile suit. It was all up to the pilot…" the man's voice trailed off for a moment as they passed an empty workstation, set in front of an undisturbed Aequitas suit. The man gestured to the workstation. "Here is where you'll work. This is your pilot's suit." He walked over and punched in a code on the desktop. It sprang to life and began to boot up the computer terminal.  
>"So what's that code you just used?" Duo asked curiously, peering around the hulking man to look at the files that began to flicker across the screen.<p>

"That is my access code. Only myself and one other man here have it. You can't access the operating system or system diagnostics without it. You will only work on the suit while being monitored. You only have limited access, and all of your work from here on out will be observed."

Duo felt his stomach tighten. These fuckers were making things practically impossible. How was he supposed to alter the reflection system while they were keeping everything so locked up? The more frightening thing was that he couldn't tell Heero or Solo any of this. He couldn't warn them that he might not be able to get it done.

"So," the man shoved a stool up to the workstation and grinned, "Get started."

"When do I get to contact my pilot?" Duo blurted, perhaps a little too eagerly. James shrugged and pointed down to the computer.

"Don't you worry about that? Just get to work. You'll be tested on your knowledge, boy. Let's just see how much of a whiz kid you actually are."

Duo frowned and turned to look at the screen. He heard the giant stomping away behind him. He slid onto the stool and sighed, propped his elbows on the counter and stared unseeing down into the bright blue display in front of him. He hadn't anticipated this. He hadn't expected them to treat him like a prisoner. He had hoped he would have more privilege and access. This was going to be hard. He couldn't hack this system. He couldn't even do anything in the least suspicious or they would know he was up to something.

Heero. His mind immediately snapped to the thought of Heero piloting this thing. They should have just blown up the satellite when they had the chance. Une wanted data. He was staring down at billions of gigs of data. The plan was to apprehend the 'bad guys' while keeping the mobile suits intact for prosecution.

Duo's face began to burn with heat. He glared down at the computer module and grit his teeth. If they had just blown this place up, he wouldn't be here like a Jew in a concentration camp, forced to work on the suit that could potentially fuck up his boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Did I just say Heero Yuy was my boyfriend?

Duo wanted to laugh. A bitterness began to swell in the back of his throat. He began to look around the hangar for anything highly combustible. Maybe if he made a bomb in here he could blow up the mobile suits before Heero even had a chance of getting in one. Fuck the Preventers. Fuck Lady Une. If he could just-

"Hi there."

Duo blinked, yanked immediately out of his mutinous thinking by a small voice behind him. He turned around on his stool and stared at the young man who had managed to approach him from behind.  
>"Who are you?" Duo asked, staring intensely down at the kid. He supposed he couldn't call the guy a kid. He was the same age as he was, perhaps a little older, but his demeanor was meek and feeble as a child's. The kid practically flinched when Duo asked his question.<p>

"Um. I am Charles." The kid walked up and stuck out a tiny hand, attempting to initiate a handshake. Duo stared down at it, smiled and shook the petite hand with a smile.

"I'm Guy. Guy Johnson." Duo had the good sense to give him his cover name. He released the hand and watched as the kid practically squirmed under his gaze. "Johnson? Are you the mechanic for model two?"

Duo blinked. What was he talking about? Quickly he glanced up at the mecha behind him and saw on the breastplate the Roman numeral two painted in white. "Heh. Guess I am," he said plainly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, well, that's great." Charles reached up to push his large, round glasses up onto his nose. Duo smirked. The kid looked like such a dweeb. "I am the apprentice coder for all of these suits," the kid explained. Duo eyed him closely.

"Apprentice?" Duo asked skeptically, wondering what a 'coder' was exactly. Charles nodded, and in doing so displaced his glasses to a spot further down his nose. He frantically pushed them up again.

"Why yes. My father is the actual coder, he is training me." He began to wring his hands and Duo thought for a moment the kid was going to jump out of his skin. "We have been living here for seven months… and I must say, I haven't seen a mechanic as young as you are. You must be very gifted."

Duo blinked and then couldn't help but laugh. Was this kid for real? "Yeah, I'm a fucking genius." The American tapped his temple with a forefinger and grinned. Charles smiled and then winced, as if the act caused him pain. Duo wasn't sure what to do. The kid was so uncomfortable in conversation it was starting to give HIM the jitters.  
>"You've been living here for seven months?" Duo broke an awkward stint of silence. Charles nodded and motioned around him. "Yes. We have been here ever since they built this hangar, preparing to receive the Aequitas. Now that they are finally here, I actually have something to do."<p>

Duo watched as the young man began to tug at the sleeves of his oxford shirt. He noticed how he was dressed, differently from the rest of the workers here. He was wearing real clothes, for starters, and his choice of attire was vaguely similar to Quatre's, like that of a rich kid or a casual business professional. Duo wondered if the Sandrock pilot had ever been this meek or feeble. Maybe he had been before he became a pilot. This kid seriously needed some toughening up.

"Well, you guys did a good job, I guess. It is kinda dark in here, though." Duo said in his rudest voice. He watched Charles flinch at his words. "Nice to meet you. If you don't mind I kind of have work to do…" Duo motioned to his module and smiled.

"Oh. Right, of course. I just wanted to meet you. Good... um… luck with your work."

"Yeah, thanks." Duo said curtly before abruptly turning around on his stool. He could practically hear the ball of nerves standing behind him before skittering away into the darkness.

He felt bad for being rude, but he was here on business. He didn't want that kid noticing him, or thinking just because they were the only two young people captive here that he was going to be friends. If he had been friendly to him he would have risked having the other guy hanging around all the time, and then he would never get any work done.

Work. It was time for work.

He began to casually sift through the files on display before doing a bit of surface research on the suit. Because the suit hadn't been piloted there wasn't a lot of actual data to go by, only speculative tests. There was no top speed, or amount of thrust available, or anything substantial to look at.  
>He decided to try and see what the OS had to offer. He browsed through this as casually as possible, skimming for information about the reflection program. He couldn't find much, which was something he had been worrying about. The Haro was probably holding what he actually needed.<p>

He looked up at the suit and sighed. He would have to get inside and see if he could piece together how it worked from the actual mechanisms. He slid off of the stool, shed his sweeper jacket and tugged on a pair of black coveralls. He found the stairs to the catwalk and began lugging himself up them.

He would have to take a look inside.

As he walked up to the chest of the mobile suit he saw the flush manual hatch release. It was in the same place Wing's had been. He punched it with his hand and stepped back as the panel began to slide out of place, revealing the dark cockpit deep inside. A low hum sounded from just below his feet. The auxiliary generator had activated to provide power to the interior of the suit. The controls flickered on and illuminated the small space, revealing to him the place Heero would be piloting from.

All around the interior were small probes and resonators, evidence of the suspected reflection program.

"Shit…"

.

When Sergeant James all but dragged Duo from Lowe's office, Heero felt a distinct knot of dread forming in his gut. They were being separated already. As the door slid shut, he glanced to Solo. The older agent had a decidedly unhappy frown on his face. "I don't like this," he muttered; Heero agreed. In his arms, Haro was silent.

Noah arrived several moments later, gazing over the brothers coolly before motioning that they follow him. He led them down into the satellite, and after about ten minutes of sharp turns, long hallways, and numerous stairs and lifts, the young man finally addressed them. "Solo, you're in charge of these two. If you suspect anything odd or out of place about their performance, you are to report it to me immediately and detain the pair of them." Solo nodded wordlessly. \

Noah turned his dirty-colored eyes to Heero next. "Ritter, you are being entrusted with the single most advanced mobile suit in the history of colonial warfare. There will be consequences should you damage it, and they will be immediate and severe. Your flight mechanic has been quarantined in the Aequitas hangar. Until your suit is completely operational, he will remain there, for strict security reasons."

Heero kept his expression blank and impartial, but his thoughts were bordering on panicked. Duo was being confined to the hangar? How in space were they supposed to hack into these bank accounts to appease Lowe, communicate with Preventers, and modify the infrared readers in the suit if they were separated?

"You will train with the other pilots for approximately sixteen hours a day, for roughly the next three weeks. You will have no contact with anyone outside of this satellite. You can communicate with your mechanic via a vidcomm in your barracks, but all conversations will be monitored. If you make satisfactory progress in your training, you can begin heavily supervised training flights with your suit. After each run, you will be given an hour of time with your sergeant," he gestured vaguely to Solo, "And your mechanic to discuss troubleshooting or potential upgrades to your suit. This will take place on the flight line. At no point are you allowed into the hangar, and at no time is your mechanic allowed into the pilots' barracks. You will take meals in the mess hall twice a day at preset times."

Noah led them into a crowded barracks room. It looked nothing like the accommodations at Preventers headquarters in Brussels. This place more resembled a warehouse than anything. It was a large, open space, and every available wall was lined with steel bunkbeds and footlockers, desks, chairs, and computer terminals. At the far end of the enormous room were a wall of shower stalls, sinks, and urinals. It was efficient, if nothing else. "Your training begins in thirty minutes. You will wear the uniform provided inside your locker; you will be referred to only by your suit name and number."

The young man gave Heero a piercing look and paused, handing Solo a small computer tablet. "This is your unit's information, schedules, and progress reporting program. You will track your pilot's test scores and any other pertinent data and submit it daily to me. If I see any discrepancies you will have to answer to me or the commander. Have him ready for the first simulation training in twenty-seven minutes."

And then Noah was walking briskly from the barracks, disappearing down the hallway. Heero looked to his brother, who was staring in apparent bewilderment at the computer he'd been handed. "You're Pilot AE-02," he said quietly. "And you're also the single most qualified pilot they have." That wasn't terribly surprising. "This says you've got training until midnight tonight, then a break for mess, five hours of sleep, and then you start all over again tomorrow."

Heero nodded grimly. And he'd thought J's training regimen had been difficult...

"Suit up and meet me by the bay doors," Solo said gruffly. "Your locker has your pilot number on it. Then the Sweeper was stalking off towards the doors.

Wing's pilot glanced around the hangar and decided that the lockers were arranged in alphanumerical order. He found his easily enough, stripped unselfconsciously in front of it, and pulled on the black BDUs inside. He thought it a little ridiculous to expect anyone to pilot in infantry attire, but he didn't exactly have a choice. The last thing he pulled from the locker after his socks and boots were a pair of dogtags similar to the ones they'd hidden inside Haro. They were a burnished copper in color though, and the only thing stamped into them was AE-02. That was it. No blood type, no religious preferences, no real identification. If he died piloting this suit, no one would know or care who he was, if he had family, loved ones, or final wishes.

Heero put them on without hesitating. He had more immediate problems to solve. The first was that he was being kept from communicating openly with Duo. They second was that there was only so much buffering Solo could do for him with overwhelming training schedules. Most importantly, if he was being monitored this heavily, Deathscythe's pilot was not going to be able to tamper with those infrared readers without being detected. So Heero had two options: risk exposure to direct radiation, or get Duo to change the way his suit's operating system interpreted 'damage'.

Closing his locker, Heero twisted the dial and picked Haro up where he'd been rolling around his pilot's boots on the tiled floor. Haro wouldn't ignore a direct order from him; of that he was certain. But he couldn't very well order the little OS to disregard damage to the suit and therefore avoid being injured as a result-that would be blatantly obvious and expose the fact that Duo had reprogrammed Haro. It would also look incredibly suspicious if he never sustained injuries during training. Heero realized that he would have to take at least one unrestrained hit from the infrared reader to get a baseline of the type of injury it produced, how badly it hurt, and how long it took to heal in order for Duo to replicate it with separate technology, anyway.

Being able to bend steel with his bare hands was one thing; glowing in the dark, as Solo had quipped, was another matter entirely. They should have blown this damned satellite sky-high the moment they'd left it. Now they were trapped, and if Heero disliked being backed into a corner then he knew damned well Solo and Duo absolutely_hated_it.

Haro chirped quietly in the crook of his elbow as he followed Solo to the first training simulation. The room they stopped at was half the size of the barracks and contained fifteen identical terminals, each shaped like the simulator which Noah had used to initially test his piloting abilities. Great. Heero wasn't particularly enthused about fighting with that damned computer again. Solo nudged him gently in the ribs with an elbow and gave him a loaded look. It said a million things: we'll get through this, do your best, don't worry about Duo, I've got your back.

More than anything, Heero just wanted to confirm that his partner was relatively safe. He knew that Duo would be doing anything possible to disable the infrared sensors in that suit, and that's what worried him the most. He didn't want the American's tampering to cost him his life. Heero had no doubts in his mind that Sergeant James or Noah would kill the violet-eyed mechanic if they even suspected him of tampering with their suit.

With a grim scowl, Heero turned to his brother. "Make contact with the commander," he said as quietly as he could. This arrangement is not satisfactory to completing his objectives."

Solo nodded once before turning and leaving to look for Lowe. Maybe they could use the old man to their advantage. It was worth a shot.

Feeling slightly more encouraged about their probability of mission success, Heero sat down at one of the simulator terminals and prepared himself to dominate that bitch of a computer.

Six solid hours later, he nearly had to drag himself back to his bunk. He kicked off his boots and didn't bother removing his BDUs, but collapsed the moment he was horizontal on the thin, hard bunk board. Solo hadn't returned yet. He hadn't been able to contact Duo through the vidphone. Haro had nearly blown a fuse trying to determine whether he should be following the computer's instructions or Heero's. MEI, or Mechanical Extrasensory Intelligence, as the computer was known, had decided that Heero was a particularly stubborn pilot and did not know how to fly his suit without her guidance and demanding instructions. Heero had found MEI to be unhelpful, shortsighted, and ultimately so radically different from the ZERO System that he had finally shouted at Haro to completely override her commands. The orange sphere had reported back an error code that would not allow him to override MEI-the two OS were designed to work in tandem, not individually. Haro was a weapons and radar unit; MEI's function was more similar to ZERO's, calculating target probabilities and scenarios in combat, however she could enforce her findings on the suit, where ZERO had only given its pilot options. It was going to get someone killed in real combat.

The migraine forming behind his eyes was incredible. Heero wasn't sure how to handle MEI, or the situation with Duo. He certainly couldn't even begin to consider what to do about Lowe's proposition. Instead, he closed his eyes, curled up around Haro, and allowed himself to pass out.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen  
>[Day 21] MO-49573<p>

It had been the longest week of Duo's life. He couldn't remember ever being so bored, worried and completely frustrated than he had been during the excruciating week of 'prep' work on this godforsaken mobile suit.

He was beginning to hate everything about it. He hated how it had no fully operating OS without the Haro being present. That in itself was a hassle. He could do hardly anything with the substitute demo OS that the nerdy little Charlie had given him. All it did was boot up and take baseline readings.

He had good 'ole Sergeant James riding up his ass farther than a proctologist, and the poindexter coder kid was constantly grilling him with personal questions he just couldn't answer.

'Where are you from?' 'How do you like it here?' 'What is your pilot like?'

"My pilot..." Duo gulped down the last swig of the disgusting choco-protein shake, his fifth in the past three hours. There was something completely unsatisfying about not chewing your food. What he wouldn't give for a nice, juicy steak to tear his teeth into about now.

He tossed the empty can on top of the growing pile accumulating in his garbage pail before glaring down at the readings the substitute Haro OS was giving him. Nothing made any lick of sense. He had been trying for the past week to come up with ways of bypassing the reflection program, but to no avail. He couldn't very well install the whole system, James would have a fit and he's find himself staring down the receiving end of a gun in no time. He tried seeing if he could use the replica Haro to modify what the sensors did, but he couldn't do much of anything without the M.E.I. system online. He couldn't put that shit online without a pilot in the seat, and he was expressly told never to try. Not that he could anyway, he would need a Haro in the dock before the M.E.I would even boot.

So a whole week of work had ended with nothing accomplished. He had seen Noah only a few times in passing, and had overheard the guy approving of his work with Sergeant James. Duo didn't know if that meant he had won their trust, but he was sure it was a good sign.

Today they were allowed to visit with their pilots, and he was growing desperate to see Heero and Solo.

He tried not to look too anxious and excited when they made the announcement. All of the mechanics were to stand in front of their machines and wait for their team to approach. He watched as bleary-eyed pilots shuffled tiredly to their mobile suits, moving into the hangar in single-file. Finally he spotted Heero and Solo moving confidently through the doorway, approaching the mobile suit at a slow and steady pace. Duo wished that they would hurry the fuck up. He had a lot to tell them. He was bursting at the seams with concerns and information about the suit.

Once they had made it to the mobile suit he put on his happiest grin and pointed up at the mecha. "There you have it, your spiffy new killing machine." He winked at Solo in greeting before motioning to the catwalk. "Come on, let me show you the controls."

He led Heero up the catwalk while Solo had the decency to wait down on the floor. Duo glanced through the grating and to see Solo poking at the locked down workstation with disinterest, the Haro nestled securely under his arm.

"So this is how you open the hatch," Duo said with a grin, knowing full well that Heero would immediately recognize the release mechanism for the chest cavity. It hissed open. Once revealed Duo pointed at the seat and said loudly, "This is where you will sit. Why don't you try it out?"

He all but shoved Heero inside and pointed to the hatch with a grand gesture, "Check it out, it closes right behind you. Oh, wait! You can't figure out how it works? Here, let me show you!" He quickly stepped inside the cockpit just between Heero's splayed legs and punched the hatch seal, letting the shell close in front of them. It was dark inside, with only the neon blue guiding lights outlining the command module. Once the shell locked with a loud clunking noise he turned around and grabbed the Wing pilot roughly by the shoulders and kissed him.

.

It felt like Heero's self-restraint was at its breaking point as he forced himself to match Solo's unhurried steps into the Aequitas hangar and towards Duo. He completely disregarded the mobile suit behind his fellow agent, cobalt eyes intent on finding violet and communicating through sheer force of will that Duo needed to get them into that cockpit before Heero's meticulously constructed self-control snapped.

The Japanese pilot ignored his partner's ridiculously theatrical insults to his intelligence and allowed himself to be shoved unceremoniously into the pilot's seat. Once the hatch was closed and Duo was practically in his lap, however, he couldn't really ignore his mechanic.

It had been seven days since he'd seen the American. Heero didn't think he'd gone that long without laying eyes on his best friend since 195. He reciprocated Duo's anxiety-driven gesture with equal intensity, but after several long moments pulled away from Deathscythe's pilot and drew in a ragged breath. "We don't have much time," he murmured against Duo's mouth. "I haven't been able to tamper with Haro's suit-damage recognition abilities at all. We're in simulator training and physical testing all day." Despite the urgency Heero felt about conveying what little intel he had, he couldn't seem to stop himself from kissing his partner, running his hands over the other agent's sides, back, or anywhere else he could reach. "Solo's going to distract James for as long as possible, but there's only so much that he can do." Wing's pilot settled for speaking quietly whenever their mouths parted, "What's the status of the infrared readers?"

Heero had dozens of questions: why did Duo look so ill? Had he been able to access MEI? How were they supposed to get into those bank accounts for Lowe? When would they see each other again? How were they supposed to complete this mission while they were both practically on prison-style lockdown?

Kissing Duo senseless seemed like a much better alternative to talking, thinking, planning, worrying, breathing. Heero needed answers, but for the first time in his career as a pilot or a Preventer, the need to attend to his partner came before any mission objective. Hell, Duo had_become_a mission objective sometime in the last few weeks.

They were running out of time, but in the dimly-lit cockpit of a suit frighteningly similar to Wing Zero's, Heero just didn't give a damn. He held onto the front of Duo's jumpsuit like a lifeline and ignored the countdown in his head that told him they'd been inside this suit for one minute and seventeen seconds. Both of their nerves were frayed past acceptable standards and physical contact was an effective way to relieve combat stress. Heero reassured himself that this was his sole rationale for practically dragging his mechanic into the seat to straddle him.

.

His brain kicked into gear around the two minute and nineteen second mark of their confinement within the cockpit. He broke his greedy assault on Heero's mouth and gasped for breath. It felt good to be near someone he could trust, someone he cared about. He had run his hands over every part of the Wing pilot he could reach. Aside from a significant hardening of his pectoral and abdominal muscles, the other pilot seemed relatively the same. Duo hadn't noticed any damage, which meant that whatever Heero had been doing hadn't included the reflection system.

He stood up reluctantly, gently untangled Heero's limbs from his own and with a frown reached up over his head and tapped the hatch release. It depressurized before slipping loose, opening to reveal the catwalk once more. Duo smiled grimly as he stepped backward to stand on the catwalk, an acceptable distance away from the other pilot, before motioning to the five infrared sensors and series of resonators that were scattered throughout the cockpit.

"These are the probes for the reflection system," he said mildly, as if he were doing a routine tour of something boring, like a bread factory. He gestured to the nearest probe, his eyes flickering from it to Heero, an expression of apology reflected against his widened eyes. "They are fully operational."_I'm sorry. I couldn't do anything about it._

He glanced over his shoulder and down through the grating at his feet. Solo was leaning casually against the workstation, shooting the shit with Sergeant James, who was actually smiling.

"So, yeah. The suit is all ready for flight. All of the power sources have been cleared and charged." He leaned in a little, resting his hands over his head on the upper curve of the cockpit opening, trying his best to look casual while occluding the gaping opening. He lowered his voice and said with a sigh, "It is exactly the same."_The weapons. The construction. The way it will manage itself through space._"Except for the OS. I don't have a version of M.E.I that is operational at this point, it will only boot up in the presence of a Haro."

_Which means I didn't get to do anything_. His body language exuded defeat, though to the onlooker it would only seem that he was lazy and maybe a little tired. "Today is orientation. Tomorrow is flight training, though I don't think you'll need that. The day after that is going to be battle training. They plan to do it in the meteor belt." He explained casually, as if he were talking about something as mundane as the weather.

"Your Haro sits here," he said conversationally, leaning in to point to the gaping hole beside the command module where the Haro docks. He was significantly closer now, but still standing in the way to block any observer from truly seeing what he was gesturing to. He let his hand gently glide over Yuy's hand before pointing to a small box welded to the interior of the cockpit. "That's the override fuse box. It is welded close. I'm going to work on it tonight." His voice was barely audible and was soon drowned out by his next statement, "I bet you're wondering why there are no vidscreens or monitors here in this cockpit?" He motioning to the matte black surroundings where normally projection monitors would be.

"M.E.I. will show you what you'll need to see," he said as deadpan as he could, though his face was giving Heero his most meaningful look. _Zero system..._

It was something Duo had asked the nerd Charles about two days before. He had asked another mechanic what sort of visualization system the Aequitas used, but when the other mechanic had no clue, Charlie had run up to him, eager to explain how the M.E.I. worked. The more the kid explained, the more Duo was secretly horrified. It was too similar to the Zero system, and though Duo was more than confident that Heero could handle Zero, he wasn't so sure about M.E.I. Especially after the little he had seen in the testing Noah had put them through.

He frowned before saying loudly, "Solo! Can we have that Haro?" He glanced down to see Solo breaking off his friendly exchange with the Sergeant.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty  
>[Day 25] MO-49573<p>

((Time to switch it up! *Grabs Heero and runs with it* Sorry for the change of tone, but it is what it is. You don't want us to get bored, do you? Besides, Brkstrtrcr's Duo is better, anyway. :D – BHG))

* * *

><p>Piloting a mobile suit was nothing like piloting a jet or a space shuttle. A mobile suit was a complex structure with appendages like that of a human being. Unlike a fused, single piece vessel, one had to take into account at any moment where each arm and leg were located while in battle, the stance of the suit, the distribution of weight, and how the next attack would be executed from this position.<p>

That was why operating systems were so important. Super computers could anticipate the pilot's moves and prepare the suit for the next assault or defensive maneuver. They could take control of thrusters, automatically lock on to intended targets, stabilize the suit in any form of terra or atmosphere, and sift through the billions of terabytes of data collected and present to the pilot those facts and pieces of information that are necessary to perform a mission.

Operating systems, or OS, were developed to make piloting easier. They were intended to optimize the piloting experience, and with these optimizations came more sophisticated suits with abilities that a single human couldn't begin to control. The OS became an assistance tool, and then gradually over time was given a form of artificial intelligence (AI) with the simple goal was to seek victory against the target it was directed at, along with providing safety for the mobile suit and pilot.

The Mechanical Extrasensory Intelligence operating system, or M.E.I., was nothing like anything Heero had ever experienced. Unlike its predecessors, M.E.I. didn't assist the pilot. Rather, it questioned. It doubted. When it made a suggestion, and the pilot didn't commit to the same mission plan, it would punish. Its goals were not to seek victory and protect the pilot, rather to seek its own preprogrammed missions and keep the mobile suit from receiving damage, while training the pilot to submit to its desires.

The simulations had been enough to prove to Heero that this was going to be no cakewalk. M.E.I. was the single most frustrating thing he had ever gone up against, and he had done so for days on end. The observers who cycled through to watch his training all nodded their heads and muttered statements of approval as he fought tooth and nail against the fucking system, nearly driving himself mad with its constant disagreement with his piloting style.

He just didn't understand it. Why would they develop an operating system that had its own goals and intentions? Why would they even bother putting a breathing, free-thinking human in a mobile suit that wouldn't submit to the pilot's commands? They could have easily created another mobile doll operating system with M.E.I. without wasting the resources they had on training pilots to sit within her and argue.

There had to be a reason. Heero just hadn't had the time or energy to devote to figuring this out. The training regimen had been exhausting and he had finally found himself at his physical and mental limitations. He couldn't sleep. He could barely eat. He found himself obsessing over the things M.E.I. had 'corrected' him on, wondering what the rationale behind each 'correction' had been. The system never told you why you needed to change your course of action; it just insisted that you did. Only his raw willpower could override the system. Whenever he did override its decision, he always seemed to find the same result. Despite his positive outcomes the M.E.I. system never recalled his previous decisions. It never took into account his past fighting history, style, or preferences. It just reset itself, and forced its odd requests upon him over and over again.

It had no frame of reference. It was single-minded and had tunnel vision. It wanted something done a certain way, with minimal damage to the suit, and it would force the pilot to do what it was programmed to. Again, why would they need a pilot?

It was as if M.E.I. was training the pilots to be just like it.

Heero had never seen any of the other potential pilots in action. He wondered if they were fighting as much as he was with the system. Maybe they had all submitted? He wondered why they would keep him in the program knowing that he was not cooperating well with their precious operating system, let alone give him a prestige mobile suit?

There was a lot about this organization he didn't understand. He still didn't understand the power play between Odin Lowe and Noah. The kid would show up for inspection once a day, walk through the pilot barracks and generally stomped around as if he owned the place. Heero hadn't seen Odin since his strange request of him and Solo almost two weeks before. Was there anyone else in power, aside from Lowe and Noah? If so, what were their goals? What was all of this for?

The dull ache that had settled in his brain a few days before began to flare up. He closed his eyes and sighed, blocking out the image of the internal cockpit of the Aequitas suit. The low frequency hum of the power modules were the only sound aside from the occasional beep and turn of the Haro unit that sat neatly in its dock just to his right. It was dark. There were no monitors in this suit, something Heero had never experienced before. The control panels were all backlit in a pale, white-blue light. Holographic switches and touch monitors glowed faintly just in front of him. There were no thrust pedals, pulleys, levers or any mechanical controls at all. Duo's words from a few days before echoed in his mind.

_M.E.I. will show you what you need to see…_

It was a frightening concept. How was he supposed to pilot a mobile suit efficiently with only an operating system showing him what he could and couldn't see? He tensed and opened his eyes slowly, seeing the red glowing eyes of the infrared sensors scattered throughout the cockpit. He didn't trust the operating system to present him with the data he would need to pass this test. He knew this wasn't going to end well. He knew he should just submit to the operating system and do as it said, but that wasn't what the organization wanted, was it? They seemed pleased he was fighting with the operating system. Were they expecting him to troubleshoot its decisions for them? If he submitted, would he be taken out of the program for being too weak? If that were the case, then he wouldn't have access to Aequitas. It could jeopardize their mission and possibly set them back on their data collection.

He had to do this. For the mission, and for the safety of others he would attempt to overcome this operating system, complete his infiltration of this organization, and provide the Preventers with vital data required to prevention of this sort of technology being produced in the future.

"AE-02. Prepare for sortie."

Heero recognize the voice of Lt. Edgar, the man who had been overseeing his training along with the other elites. The man seemed decent and knowledgeable enough.

"AE-02, standing by." Heero said plainly, looking down at the Haro. It bobbled in its dock and turned to look up at him. "STANDING BY. STANDING BY." It chirped loudly while swiveling 180 degrees.

Heero didn't know what this training exercise would be. They had been towed out with the mobile suits deactivated to the meteor belt. After the airspace had been cleared they were left in random locations along the belt and told to wait. It had been an hour, and Heero was tired of waiting. He wanted to get this over with. He wanted to know how M.E.I was going to be in a real mobile suit, under real assault.  
>He sighed deeply, but found his flight suit constricting and the series of straps holding him to the strange seat tight and unforgiving. He felt like a prisoner, being held against his will, anticipating inevitable torture.<p>

Edgar's voice spoke up again from Heero's earpiece. "M.E.I activated. Good luck, Ritter."

"ACTIVATE. ACTIVATE!" Haro practically screamed. Heero saw the little ball's eyes brighten. The humming of power around him grew louder and the suit jolted with energy, coming to life. He felt a throbbing sensation in his arms. His skin puckered and the hairs on his head and the back of his neck stood up. He felt as if he were being sucked back against the seat. His arms grew heavy and his feet were dragged even more firmly into their stirrups. It felt as if he were magnetized and stuck to the seat. He couldn't move them. His eyes began to swim with spots, and then he saw his vision darken. Or was it the cockpit that had darkened? No. He couldn't see. His heart began to race. He was growing uncharacteristically panicked. He couldn't see. He couldn't see the cockpit, the glowing controls, or Haro.  
>Just when he was convinced he had lost his vision a flash of yellow flickered across his eyes. He felt a sharp jolt of electricity surge through his body.<p>

"M.E.I. fusion, complete. Pilot accepted. John Ritter." The familiar flat tone of the M.E.I. said from all around him. No… it wasn't around him. It was inside him. Heero took in a ragged breath. The yellow light in his eyes vanished, and when his vision focused he realized what he was looking at. The meteor belt. The external of his suit. He was looking out through the suit's optical camera. He was seeing the space around him from the perspective of the suit.

It was in his head. It was seeing the world through him, with him. He tried to move his arm again. He felt his arm rise. He saw the suit's arm rise. He reached over to touch the opposite arm. He felt the sensation of metal touching his flesh.

Never in Heero's life had he ever thought something like this would be possible. He had seen many advances in technology in his life, but this was something he never thought he would ever see, or experience. He wondered what Dr. J would say if he knew the world would have had such a thing as this.

He had become his mobile suit.

"Attention, pilots. Please, acclimate yourself with the controls. You have sixty seconds." Edgar's voice echoed through Heero's skull, agitating the current ache in his temple. Heero flinched and reflexively grabbed his head. The mobile suit responded, mimicking his intended movements.

How did he move? He attempted to walk forward, but it didn't do anything but tip his suit forward slightly. He was in space. He would need to activate his propulsion, but how, without anything to use as a controller?

"M.E.I., explain propulsion in fusion mode." Heero found himself saying, hearing his voice doubled. He was hearing his internal thoughts, and hearing his physical body vocalizing as well.

"Fusion Mode. Pilot is fused with M.E.I. system. Piloting and maneuvers in fusion mode are achieved through mental processes, only." M.E.I. stated.

"Mental processes," Heero thought. Did he only have to think about what he wanted to do? He sighed and concentrated on a dark, gray and jagged meteor gliding past the suit. He thought about encircling it at specific speed, while pulling his right arm with his cannon up to a ninety-degree angle against himself.

And it happened, seamlessly. He tried it again. Again, the mobile suit adjusted its propulsion and thrusters to do as he commanded. He just needed to stop letting his brain think about how to move his physical body.

Thirty seconds later he had figured it out. It was as if his physical body encapsulated within the mobile suit didn't exist. He was slowly becoming more and more accustomed to the fact that the mobile suit was now his new body. His brain was now sending its impulses straight to the suit, cutting out his human form within entirely.

"AE-02. Prepare for assault. Three mobile suits approaching 67.922 degrees, astral plane 4, weapons drawn. Destroy enemy suits." M.E.I. supplied.

Heero readied his weapons. He was no longer himself. He was AE-02, an Aequitas mobile suit, prepared to destroy the targets. And he would. Nothing could stop him, not even M.E.I.

.

The mobile suit landed effortlessly on the landing dock, and was immediately dragged inside the hangar by large electromagnets attached to its feet. Once the pod had been pressurized the mobile suit was taken to its docking bay by two large cranes. It was locked into place. The catwalk was lowered in front of it and the external lights dimmed. Heero felt everything happening outside, but couldn't see a thing. There were no external cameras, and with the M.E.I. system deactivated by the control tower, he could do nothing but wait until the hatch was opened manually.

His body was weak and trembling. He stared down at the control panel in front of him, and at the happily singing Haro twisting and turning on its dock, lamenting "MISSION COMPLETE. MISSION COMPLETE," joyfully.

"Mission… complete." Heero found moving his own mouth difficult. Blinking was exhausting, and breathing was growing more and more difficult by the minute. How weak and feeble he felt in his own flesh, as opposed to the indestructible power he had felt as a mobile suit only minutes before. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the mechanical act of breathing, feeling his heart palpating erratically at the absence of the electrical impulses the M.E.I. system had been feeding him while he had been piloting. He felt unstable and as thin as a sheet of paper. He heard the hatch open and opened his eyes the best he could – only a millimeter or so – to see Duo and Solo peering in at him. Large, reflective violet eyes were scanning him with concern. Solo's previously cool and unattached posture was now one of stiff apprehension. He wondered with amusement if they thought they would be opening the hatch to see a corpse.

"I… was hit." He said weakly, gesturing with a heavy tilt of his head down to his right leg. The flight suit had been singed open and a hole three-inches in diameter had been burned through it, down to his flesh that appeared reddened and was peeling. It matched where his mobile suit received damage from an unlucky shot from another Aequitas suit. He hadn't anticipated friendly fire into the equation, but it had happened. He heard Edgar chastising the other pilot over the comm. He wondered if he would see Pilot Trexis in the barracks tonight.

"It is just as we thought, but more intricate. M.E.I. doesn't just punish you, it makes you the suit." He didn't know how ridiculous the other two thought this sounded, but it was the only way he could describe what he had experienced. He coughed and lifted his arm weakly to cover his face. He wanted to laugh. He had forgotten to breathe. He took in a few deep breaths, established a steady pattern, and then said hoarsely, "It was amazing."

And dangerous. And risky. And completely horrifying that a rogue group possessed this form of advanced technology.

.

'Hit' was probably Heero's understatement of the year.

Duo crawled into the cockpit on his knees and investigated the angry-looking burn on his friend's leg. It looked like he'd been electrocuted, and if Duo knew the sensors with as much detail as he thought he did, then that was exactly what had happened.

No one had really bothered to explain exactly how MEI operated in conjunction with the pilot-what his pilot would see, feel, and experience. Duo didn't particularly care. His job was to keep the OS from killing Yuy, and so far he was utterly failing in that department. He'd spent days poring over the cockpit's schematics, circuitry plans, and operating codes. There was no way that he could see to circumvent the interface that forced the computer to harm the pilot when the suit was damaged.

They had two options. They could either try damned hard to outsource help from Preventers and risk getting caught, or Heero had to make absolutely no mistakes while flying. While his best friend may have been a genetically engineered soldier, Heero was still fucking human. Everyone screwed up at least once. From what Duo had observed from the mechanics' shuttle, his pilot hadn't made an error-he'd been hit by a stray shot from a fellow suit. Not even Heero could account for friendly fire.

"You need to get that treated before it gets infected," he muttered. The American was aware that he was hovering over his partner, and that Solo was doing the same damned thing, but right now he didn't really give a shit about playing a role. He was beyond irritated with his own uselessness on this mission. From what he'd overheard on the observation shuttle, Sergeant James was expecting the pilots to run sorties every day for the next week. That was a minimum of six more opportunities for Heero to make a fatal error and get his handsome ass zapped by his own suit. That was unacceptable.

Solo had stepped back onto the catwalk and was watching Heero like a hawk. "We need to get you outta here and back to your barracks. We're done for the day, or so they've said, but I heard a rumor that they'll be hauling your asses outta bed at random to run more training battles," Duo spoke quietly as he pulled Haro from its dock and tossed it to Solo, then began undoing Heero's flight harness. It was the most contact he'd hope to get until they got off this fucking satellite.

Down on the hangar floor, one of the training instructors was barking out orders to have a pilot-or what was left of him-mopped up out of a cockpit, and James was stalking around beside Noah, listening to the younger man talk animatedly about the Aequitas' performance during the sortie. Duo wanted to break that kid's neck. There was a dead man not three suits down from them and the guy was prancing through the hangar like it was his birthday. This shit was sick. Duo wanted to grab Heero and Solo, shoot Noah, and bail.

The Japanese pilot was breathing more steadily and evenly when Duo eased the harness straps from his shoulders. Heero's blue eyes were wide and wild looking, though, and that didn't reassure him much. "They're gonna to give us more time together to customize the suits, plan strategy, and build a rapport," Duo snorted, rolling his eyes. "We'll make this work," he said, and that was all he really could say without being overheard and branded a spy.

Twenty minutes later, Solo had escorted Yuy back to his barracks and was sitting on unit AE-02's foot while Duo began repairing the mostly cosmetic damage to the lower leg with a welding torch. Even if they couldn't speak to one another openly, there was something familiar and comforting about the other man's presence there. Solo seemed to know that, too, because he hadn't given a reason for lurking around the hangar at all. He'd just sat down, slumped back against the suit with his arms crossed over his chest, and stared out across the busy room.

Melding spare bits of neo-titanium was a peace of cake compared to repairing gundanium alloy. Duo worked with an intensity born of desperation to be useful. He had been obsessing over the sensor array in the suit's cockpit for days on end, and with no new ideas or hope of disabling the damned system in sight he had resorted to keeping himself exhaustively busy.

If they could talk to Odin Lowe again, then Duo was certain that the man would give them whatever the fuck they wanted in order to accomplish their mission and liquidate the Hathcock Project's bank accounts. Given their current positions, though, it wasn't as if Duo could just saunter into the man's office for a friendly chat. He was a grunt mechanic, maybe better than the losers working on the Veritas fleet, but still under so much scrutiny that making so bold a move would certainly not go unnoticed.

This was the worst kind of mission. Sure, he'd done plenty of infiltrations; he was almost as good at the as Tro was. He'd never been in this fucking deep before, though. He'd definitely never been this immersed in a mission that involved his partner and childhood best friend, either. Granted, Solo was still a little intense with the creep factor, but the other agent had grown pretty attached to the idiot. If either of them got hurt badly enough, Duo knew damned well he'd flip his shit and blow their cover. His goal was to keep them from getting too banged up. But how?

Dinner didn't reveal anything to him but mind-numbingly bland food and idle chatter through the mess hall, which he was now allowed to use. In fact, all of the mechanics had been released from their forced imprisonment in the Aequitas hangar, tonight. Duo ate robotically, staring across the room at nothing in particular, and wracking his brain for a solution to the sensor array problem. Solo, who had apparently decided to become the other man's second fucking shadow, was in the seat beside him, his bowl of chow forgotten or ignored. Two tables across from them, two Veritas mechanics were eating distractedly while a third man demonstrated some strange magnetic device that he'd constructed. He was stealing everything from credit chips to their forks and spoons with the clever little thing, and as Duo lifted his own silverware to his mouth once more he watched the mechanic pop a battery powerpack out of the device's insides.

Electromagnetism. It was a simple concept that a lot of people took for granted in an age where Vernier fuel and beam weapons were commonplace. It was also the fastest way to disrupt an electricity charge. Duo nearly dropped his spoon. If he could build an electromagnetic field around their suit's cockpit, that might neutralize the sensor array.

Problem was, Duo realistically had no idea how the sensors worked.

Sure, he knew that MEI translated any damage done to the suit into machine code and fed that through Haro to the sensor array, and from that information she determined exactly how much pain the pilot needed to feel in order to get the idea that you just didn't scratch the suit. He didn't know whether it was an electric discharge that actually injured the pilot, or a direct current, or some other crazy, futuristic torture method that had left that huge burn on his partner today.

Fuck, but this was complicated.

Duo scowled and shoved his bowl away from him on the table, tossing his spoon down as well and pushing himself angrily to his feet. Sergeant James had forbade him to go anywhere near those sensors. Charles the coder kid had refused to explain how or why they worked. In fact, when Duo had insisted that he needed the information to effectively maintain the suit, Charles had gotten a flighty look and stammered some lame-ass excuse about forgetting an appointment before practically running from Duo's hangar bay.

This shit didn't jive. The American needed to see Heero. He needed to make sure his friend was all right after how shaky he'd looked after the sortie. He also needed to shut off the part of his brain that was completely obsessed with solving this whole sensor thing. He stalked out of the mess hall and towards the pilots' barracks, knowing from the muted footsteps behind him that Solo was still following him. He rounded a corner in the dimly lit hallway and then turned on his heel, facing the other agent and glaring heatedly. "I don't need a fucking escort," he seethed. Solo looked ridiculously confused. Served him right for being so damned annoying.

Duo made his way into the pilots' barracks and found the room huge, quiet, and barely occupied. He didn't particularly care where everyone was, so long as Heero was here and breathing. Haro recognized him first, beeping cheerfully and rolling around in a small circle on the floor beside what Duo assumed was the Japanese pilot's bunk. He reached down to pick the Haro unit up off of the cold tiled floor before resting his arms on the top bunk's mattress and giving Heero a weak smile where the other man was slumped back against the wall. "How's your leg?" he asked quietly.

The doors to the barracks opened and closed with a hiss and Solo wandered in, ignoring Duo entirely and shuffling around the mechanic to sit on the edge of the lower bunk. Duo almost felt guilty for snapping at him.

Almost.

"Noah's on his way down here," the Sweeper announced to no one in particular. Duo wanted to kick him. Great. So much for having some down time.

.

A medic had seen to Heero's leg shortly after he had been escorted back to the barracks. It was only a dermal wound, but it stung like nothing Heero had ever felt before. Normally when a burn penetrated the skin it damaged the nerve endings, causing practically no pain once the wound settled. It hurt to the touch, and just had a persistent stinging sensation, even when bandaged. He had changed into his blue and white Aequitas training uniform and had been sitting on the bed, trying to keep his wounded leg immobilized.

A couple of the other pilots had been laid out on their beds, passed out from sheer exhaustion from the meteor belt sortie. He had overheard a few gossiping nearby describe the death of one of their colleagues. The guy had simply had a seizure and died. It made sense. Having an outside force enter your brain and modify your electronic network could easily kill any of them, even him.

Haro had been beeping at him from the floor where he had left him. He didn't want to be near the little orb at the moment. There was something unsettling about the thing. It was too much like M.E.I., constantly scanning him and surveying him. He wanted nothing to do with it. Not now. He heard it calling up to him from the floor, speaking his codename over and over again.

"Ritter. Ritter. Ritter."

Heero frowned and closed his eyes.

"Johnson. Johnson. Johnson."

His eyes snapped open and he turned to look in the direction of the doorway. Sure enough, there was Duo, loping up to the bed as if he belonged here.

Heero looked around suspiciously. This wasn't a trick, was it? He blinked and stared down at Duo as the other pilot leaned in and asked him about his leg.

"Fine," was all he could manage to say. What was Duo doing here? He thought the mechanics were supposed to be locked up in the hangar with the mobile suits. He was about to ask his partner when the doors slid open and Solo approached. It was then that Heero assumed that perhaps things had changed, and that the mechanics and pilots were now allowed to share company. Perhaps for the good of the cause? He supposed it was all right now, they all had the same knowledge about the mobile suit, and surely he had proven himself by now.

He had been the only one who hadn't made any tactical errors in battle.

At the mention of Noah he slid off of the bed with a groan and landed on his feet, wobbled a bit, and then turned just as Noah entered the barracks. At the sight of him he straightened and stood at attention, which was protocol for the pilots in the presence of their leader. The other conscious pilots stood from their bunks and did the same.

Noah had entered the barracks with his usual attitude of self-importance, followed closely by four older men with clipboards who followed him like flies. The young man walked from bunk to bunk, saying quiet words to each of the pilots. Heero made out one of the exchanges. Noah was telling the pilot that he needed more training in the simulator before he would be allowed back into a real mobile suit. Harsh, considering the torture the pilots had been through with the M.E.I. system earlier that day.

He watched with narrowed cobalt eyes, his shoulders squared, muscles tightened as if ready to pounce. No matter how many times he was faced with the apparent lackey of the Hathcock Project, he couldn't feel at ease around him. He couldn't be trusted.

Nobody here could.

He waited until his turn was up. The boy's swirling dark brown eyes regarded Solo, then Duo, and then settled on Heero. Heero frowned and stared right back at him.

"Good work today, Ritter. You really set the bar out there, which is unfortunate for your friends." Noah gestured to Heero's 'friends', the passed out bodies on the bunks nearby. "I read that you suffered a little friendly fire. Just know that the ... perpetrator had been dealt with."

Heero reflexively looked in the direction of Trexis' bunk. The sheets had been ripped off, and the young man was nowhere to be seen.

Disposed of. It was all Heero could think. He stared back cooly at Noah, causing the other young man to flinch at his expression.

"Didn't you enjoy your training sortie? Or, perhaps, it was a little too casual for you? It seems you have an amazing ability to pilot. I suppose you were bred for it, were you not?"

For a moment Heero's mind began to panic. Did Noah know about him and his true identity? He could see Duo shift his feet out of the corner of his eye. He saw Solo's posture straighten.

"We spacenoids are superior to those from Earth. We are more accustomed to life in zero gravity, and understand the unique parameters of the laws of astrophysics." Heero said cooly, trying his best to sound confident despite the fatigue he was currently feeling. "Many of other pilots here only have experience piloting in Earth's atmosphere, with the laws of gravity. I believe that is my advantage... Sir."

Noah stared at him, expressionless, for a long moment. And then he smiled and reached over to companionably pat Heero's shoulder. "That's right. We colonists have an advantage over all, don't we? Very good. Keep up the good work!" He nodded to Duo, and then Solo before traipsing off in the direction of the next beat-up pilot. Heero released a slow breath and leaned into the support beam of the bunk. He waited quietly for Noah to finish his rounds. Once the young man vanished through the door again with his lackeys he muttered quietly, "We need to find Lowe. Now."

He reached down to grab Haro from the floor and held it against his side with one arm, the other he touched Duo's elbow briefly with. "Come on, let's go for a walk. We'll be back, Yuy." He said to his brother, the sound of his previous codename spoken by his own voice causing him to internally cringe. Heero Yuy. What kind of sick fuck was Dr. J for giving him that codename in the first place?

He matched his stride with Duo once they were out in the hallway, though his leg was screaming for him to stop. He had to get out of there, away from the suffering of his fellow pilots. He hoped he would be lucky and run into Lowe, now that he was given more freedoms to move about the compound.

Once they rounded the corner to the training room he mumbled down to Haro, "Haro, sleep mode." The ball chimed a few times. Its eyes dimmed and it no longer chirped or moved in his arm. Good.

The training room was dimly lit. The walls were lined with weight equipment, rows of treadmills with various webbing and probes hanging from them, various artificial cockpits hung on the far wall, and other various forms of torture were scattered about the enormous room. What with the live training there was practically no need for this room now, but it was been the palce Heero had spent countless hours fighting off M.E.I. in his mind.

Now he was fighting off the urge to touch his partner. He didn't know how long he could keep this up. He had run this scenario through his mind various times while sleeplessly lying in his bunk. He had scoped out this very spot, for this very occasion. He knew there were no surveillance cameras here. He had determined the safest place he could do this some time ago when he was scoping it out. He had run it through more times than he could count. It was a perfect plan.

He let the door to the dark training room slip close behind him. He placed his sleeping Haro on a nearby chair before grabbing the American pilot by his arm and pulling him across the room to a large upright hyperbaric chamber they had been using to train their bodies for tolerance of rapid decompression. The interior of the walls were padded for strapping pilots in upright. Three could fit comfortably at once.

He and Duo should be able to fit just fine. He yanked Duo roughly into the chamber and pushed him against the white, sterile padded wall and kissed him greedily. Despite his ragged state of mind and body he somehow managed to have enough energy to pin the mechanic against the wall. It felt good to have something to familiar as Duo beside him. He had been alone for so long now. In the past being alone hadn't been an issue at all, he had almost preferred it. But now he was used to the presence of his fellow pilot for so many years, constantly beside him in the office and always supporting him in the wars. Having been alone, with only minimal contact, had been torture.

He broke off the kiss quickly and leaned against the other pilot, feeling Duo's slender body against his. The sound of Duo's raspy breaths and the heaving of his chest against his own was deliciously satisfying. He reached down to grab the Deathscythe pilot's hair, fingering the silky tressed gently with his roughened hands. "I've been worried about you," he confided quietly. He began busying himself with kissing the side of the other pilot's neck, his free hand wrapping around the mechanic's waist to hold him closer. "You're okay, right...? Because if anyone hurt you... I'll kill them." And now he had a shiny, ridiculously overpowered mobile suit to do it with.

.

Duo opened his mouth to answer but got caught on 'the fuck?' and 'hell, yes!' at the same time. He settled for grunting noncommittally in response and tilting his head to the side to expose more of his throat to the Wing pilot. Sure, there were better places to get jumped than a decompression chamber, but he wasn't about to argue. If Heero felt safe enough to let his guard down here then they were probably in the clear.

Wufei had once said something to him about battlefield stress causing a person to do or say things that they never would otherwise, and the American was positive now that his Chinese friend had been spot on with that observation. Heero wasn't normally the overtly affectionate type, even since their friendship had become... well, whatever the hell it was, now. He had expected concern from his partner, sure, but not the almost needy affection he was now experiencing.

When the other agent's hands wandered south of Duo's belt line he chuckled and pushed at the pilot's chest. "Whoa, calm down, 'Ro." Duo brushed messy bangs away from darkened blue eyes and gave his friend a lopsided grin. "Don't start anything you can't finish." He was sure there was a double meaning in those words, but he chose not to elaborate.

"Didn't you say something about finding Lowe?" he asked. He was all for the idea. The worst that could happen was the commander told them to get lost, and then they'd be right back where they started-fucked, and not in a good way.

Despite the obvious gravity of the situation, Duo was finding it a little difficult to focus when he had Heero here, in a cramped space, in the dark, practically throwing himself at the American pilot. They needed to get back into their mission modes and find Lowe. And fuck if Duo wasn't kicking his own ass mentally for pushing Heero away and walking out of the decomp chamber.

Three steps later he was thinking about the random training battles that were no doubt in store for Noah's prodigy pilot and he was hauling Heero back into the space, pulling his partner against him, chest to chest, growling, "Fuck it," and kissing him like his life depended on it. The mission could damned well wait five or twenty minutes. Besides, when the hell was he going to get a chance like this, again?

Unbidden in his mind, the image of the dead pilot in the Aequitas suit from today's sortie flashed like an electric jolt, and Duo locked his arms around Heero's waist and kissed him harder. It had been a seizure, James had said. When MEI had attempted to fuse with the poor bastard's mind she had fried it. Heero had mastered the ZERO System and survived it, but this OS was beyond anything he'd ever been trained for, surpassed anything the Gundam scientists could have ever dreamed of. Would Heero's mind collapse the next time he fused with his OS? Would he end up a bloody mess like that other pilot?

There were too many unknowns. This mission was just too damned dangerous. But here they were, and Duo knew that none of them were leaving until they'd satisfied Preventers' request for intel. He knew that he personally couldn't leave until they'd secured every last one of those suits. If they fell into the hands of another rebel group...

Heero was strong and solid against him, comfortable and reassuringly alive. It was Duo's job to keep him that way. And maybe it was just paranoia acquired from way too much time spent both in Heero's company and dodging bullets, but there was something odd about the other agent's preoccupation with his new suit. Like the Wing pilot was excited to fly the stupid thing and risk having his heart explode in his chest just for the thrill of it. His partner was a lot of things, but reckless wasn't normally one of them, at least not without good reason.

The other man's words were still rolling around in his head, bouncing between 'Christ, does this feel good,' and 'Where the hell is Haro?' Duo didn't doubt for a second that Heero would maim or destroy anyone who brought harm upon him. He wasn't the one who needed looking out for, though. In fact, after what had happened during the training exercise today, the idea was almost laughable.

"You do remember that I was a Gundam pilot, too, yeah?" he asked against Heero's lips, burying one hand in his friend's hair at the back of his head. His other fingers were searching for and finding one of Heero's belt loops, dragging the other pilot closer, flush against him. "I'm not a damsel in distress here, 'Ro. I can take care of myself just fine. It's _you _that's got me worried."

.

Heero smiled at the thought of Duo in a princess gown, being held hostage tied to a pike while a giant dragon loomed over him. A dragon with Wufei's sneering face.

"No, you are definitely no damsel," he said with a satisfied sigh as Duo brought their bodies closer. "You're just the only thing that is important." Well, and Solo, but he really didn't want to mention his brother while he was grinding up against the American pilot. He ran his hands across Duo's lean back and sighed.

"Don't worry too much about me. The M.E.I. system is tough, but if it hasn't killed me yet, it won't. It was remarkable. It fuses with the pilot's brain. All of your reflexes become those of the suit. All of your abilities are directly relayed to put the suit into motion." He paused in his sexual assault of his partner to hold him firmly against himself. "When you watch the mecha move, you're actually watching the pilot being projected onto it. It is the pilot moving, flinching, and reacting. You aren't destroying a weapon. You are destroying the man inside it."

He frowned and leaned in to place a surprisingly chaste kiss on Duo's mouth, before lingering there for a moment, letting his lips brush gently against the American's. He was comfortable here, with Duo. He would have never thought he could ever be so comfortable letting someone touch him, or share the same personal space as him. It had taken a long time for him to become neutralized by Duo's presence, and even longer still to translate the other agent's actions as having a level of intimacy. Before Duo had just been 'being his obnoxious self'. He was flouncing around, leaning against him, poking him, interrupting his thoughts... but now Heero had figured out why. And how he was ready to accept all of that for what it was, and return it. He knew he wasn't the best at this sort of thing, but he would try.

What a shitty time for this to happen, Heero thought bitterly as he stared into Duo's eyes, their luminescent violet irises glistening even here in the dim lighting of the oxygen pressure chamber. If he had realized the potential of their dynamic relationship sooner, during a peaceful time, things would certainly have been better. Now he was stuck stealing these moments whenever he could between life-threatening piloting maneuvers and rigorous, intense mental training. Why couldn't they have 'hooked up' when they were sitting around bored in the office, rather than now on a hidden base of an enemy they didn't know anything about?

Suddenly his mind supplied him with the satisfying image of Duo bent over the copy machine back at Headquarters.

He bit back a groan and stole another fervent kiss before breaking it long enough to pant weakly, "Tell me... you've figured out how the punishment system works."

.

Duo's body slumped against Heero's and he cursed under his breath. "No, I haven't." It felt like he was failing his partner, and he hated that. "I've tried to get access to the system but it's restricted, and I can't hack it without drawing attention." Attention that they really didn't need, right now.

Leaning his head back against the wall of the decomp chamber, Duo let his eyes slide closed and sighed. "I don't know who these fuckers are, Heero, but they're no slackers when it comes to information security. They've got this place locked down tighter than your Preventers file. I can't bypass their authentication codes without setting off an alarm in the network, and I haven't been able to get anything outta the coders that work in our hangar. Tampering with the sensor array in your cockpit is totally out of the question."

That left them where they'd started. Duo beat his skull back against the wall a few times before straightening suddenly, his eyes springing open. "But if we find Lowe, maybe he can give us a hand?" It was a shot in the dark, but what other options did they have, now? "He wants something from us, right? Well, let's cash in the favor. He ain't gonna get a damned thing if you end up dead."

Duo looked at his friend's blue eyes, watched the gears turning and rotating in Heero's mind, and knew beyond doubt that if Yuy turned up dead he would blow this entire satellite to hell. There wouldn't be anything big enough left to identify the rebels with. He'd lost too much in his short life, too many people he loved and cared about. If he lost Heero...

Yeah, they'd all fucking die.

More to distract himself than anything, Duo reached out, grabbed Heero by the collar of his training uniform, and wrenched him close again. He smashed their mouths together hard enough to bruise. This mission was getting harder with every stupid, idiotic, ridiculously sweet thing that his partner said. They couldn't afford to be this attached.

"We've been gone too long, already," he muttered into Heero's neck, burying his face against the other agent's reassuringly strong pulse. "And I heard talk that they're gonna pull you guys at random during your designated sleep time for sorties." Duo's train of thought brought him back several years to a time when they'd slept in two or three hour shifts and staggered a rotating battle schedule, fighting mobile dolls for six or ten hours solid before dragging ass back to base, exhausted, injured, and running on nothing but adrenaline. "Feels like we're back on Peacemillion," he chuckled without humor, "'Cept I can't tag you in."

Duo wanted to. Fuck, did he want to be the one piloting that cursed Aequitas. He knew that Heero could handle it, but it felt like he should have been the one risking his sanity and physical well-being to accomplish this mission. That was what Duo excelled at-sheer stupid recklessness and surviving improbable odds.

"You should get back to your barracks before Solo comes looking for you." Duo faked his best devil-may-care grin for Heero, but they both knew he didn't mean it. "Wouldn't want him walkin' in on us, wouldja?"

.

"Wouldn't want Solo to walk in on us?" He echoed softly against Duo's ear, ending the statement with a slow lick to the top edge of it. "I think he learned his lesson from last time."

He couldn't help but grin at the memory of Solo chastising them for their previous sexual encounter on the transport shuttle. It had been uncomfortable at first, having Solo around. He knew that his brother still had a strange affection towards Duo, and that had bothered him before... but he was hardly capable of holding grudges of maintaining jealousy. There were too many things of real importance going on that needed his full attention. Duo Maxwell pressed against him touching his hair and rubbing his crotch against him was one of them.

Heero practically snarled at the idea of having to go back to the barracks and continue this ridiculous charade. When this was over he was going to insist that he and Maxwell have a paid vacation.

"You're right..." he said grudgingly, taking one last firm kiss from his partner before parting their lips for the last time. He slid away from the American and scowled, feeling his burning frustration persistently throbbing. He grabbed the Haro from the chair and took a deep breath, attempting to will away his sudden flood of lust and affection from his mind. He knew that the Haro was capable of scanning him, and often did so to test his status during training. He couldn't let it see him raring and ready to fuck the living shit out of his 'mechanic'. He had to think of something that would sober his thoughts.

He closed his eyes and hugged the orange orb against his chest and began pressing the wound on his leg against the leg of the chair. Searing pain swiftly came from the burn, quickly encompassing his entire leg. He grit his teeth and gasped in a few deep breaths in attempt to settle his now erratically pounding heart. Fuck... that hurts.

Once he had regained composure he said flatly, "Haro. Wake up."

The Haro unit shuddered in his hands and began chirping and beeping happily up at him, "HARO. HARO. HARO."

Heero began to glance over at his partner to look at him once more but stopped himself. It was too soon. He would have to practically stab himself in the chest to distract himself from reveling in the frustration on Duo's face, or the fact that the other agent's hair was a complete mess after their little scuffle in the hyperbaric chamber. He sighed and saw out of the corner of his eye that the other pilot noticed his disheveled state and began to smooth out his shortened locks with his hands.

Heero hated the fact that Duo had to cut his hair off, and couldn't wait for him to grow it back. The Deathscythe pilot was still the spitfire, overtly masculine man he knew before- but he just didn't look the same without his trademark long coil of hair.

It was just hair, and yet Heero was still oddly attached to it. If it bothered him so much, he knew it had to have killed Duo to have cut it off.

"Come on. I think if we walk the main corridor where we saw Lowe before we should be able to find him. He doesn't seem to have any association whatsoever with the training facility." He led the way out of the dimly lit training room and into the brightly lit hall. After walking the hall for nearly fifteen minutes he and Duo hadn't been able to run into Lowe. Heero had pulled Duo over beside the main elevators and frowned.

"I guess I'll have to see about getting an appointment with him. If Noah is as smitten with me as he seems to be, I should be able to request a meeting with him." And now that they had much more freedom Heero was confident that he would be able to hack the systems easily enough. In the training room just twenty-minutes before were many open terminals he could use. Not to mention now that he was proving himself as a pilot he could probably throw his weight around and procure a computer for himself to 'study' MS theory and the astrophysics he had mentioned to Noah in the first place.

A chime sounded from the comm system overhead and the lights blinked twice, indicating lockdown and curfew. Heero sighed and looked down the hall, seeing a few other pilots and staff members scattering to their dorms and bunkers. "I guess this is it. I'll see you tomorrow." He carefully reached over to touch Maxwell's arm before retreating down the hall towards the pilot's quarters, Haro tucked neatly against his hip.

If Duo was right about the surprise simulations, this was going to be a long night.

.

He really shouldn't have been turned on by the fact that Heero had to cause himself real physical pain in order to get his libido under control. It seemed his common sense was intent on working against him, though.

The walk to the corridor outside Lowe's office proved futile, but Duo wasn't so easily defeated. When Heero left to head back to his barracks, the American lingered in the hallway. If caught, his excuse for missing curfew was a decent one-the Aequitas mechanics had, before today, been restricted to their hangar, and stupid Duo had gotten lost. Playing dumb was one of his specialties; it made your enemies underestimate your intelligence, and that got people dead.

If memory served him well, Lowe's office was the last door at the end of this corridor, and if that man had any sense at all he would have added the three Preventers agents' biometrics data to his door's authenticator scan. Duo glanced around the dimly lit hallway before pressing his open hand palm-down on the scanner outside the man's door.

After what were perhaps the longest five seconds of Duo's life, the console flashed green and the door hissed open. Fuck, yeah! Deathscythe's pilot was inside the empty room in moments. Lowe was no where in sight, but his computer terminal was open and unlocked. It would have been so damned easy to hack a secure line out and contact Wufei, but Duo couldn't risk it. Instead, he got comfortable at the man's desk and began raiding any files he could find on the Aequitas.

There were thousands. He couldn't risk running a binary search to find info on the sensor system; that would look really suspicious. But some of these files were marked 'top clearance,' and those were always worth reading. There were training plans in Antarctica, battle simulations while entering the atmosphere, weapons calibrations under gravity.

They were taking these fucking suits to Earth.

Duo felt his blood run cold. This was bad. This was their modified Operation Meteor all over again, except no one dirtside had mobile suits, now. This was a worst-case scenario become reality. Violet eyes narrowed and Duo poured over the materals on screen. Personnel files were discarded as unimportant, though he noted that the AE-02 team's was at the top of Lowe's open files. He'd been keeping tags on their progress.

There was a file marked 'GN Drive' that Duo didn't recognize at all. His eyes widened as he skimmed it. It was a schematic for a new power source for the Aequitas. He knew that they currently ran on Vernier fuel, much like the Gundams had, but these new power sources appeared to be some kind of fusion reactor that produced photons. Duo wracked his brain for a second. Oh, yeah. Light particles. How the fuck could that power a mobile suit? They were scheduled to be installed in a select few of the Aequitas suits at the end of the week. And Heero's suit was one of them.

Duo growled and continued digging, searching for anything that looked related to the GN drive. He was running out of time. A file caught his eye and he scanned through it quickly. There was something about another system called 'Trans-Am,' but Duo couldn't decide if it was an OS. He disregarded it. Pushing away from the desk, he exited the room quickly. James was waiting otuside the hangar, visibly agitated, and Duo gave him a cocky salute. "Where the hell have you been, Johnson?" he demanded.

The American grinned sheepishly and thought up a good, solid alibi. "I was with Yuy," he said. He made sure that his words were as suggestive as possible. "Had some stress I needed to release." James' bushy eyebrows shot to his hairline, but he laughed and opened the hangar door, shoving the mechanic inside.

"You're a piece of work, Johnson," he chuckled. Duo winked at him and sauntered across the room to collapse onto his bunk beside unit AE-02. Technically he hadn't lied. Let James think what he wanted. Duo's last thought as sleep overtook him was that he hoped, for Solo's sake, it didn't get around that Duo had stumbled back to the hangar late, hair in disarray, after making out with their fight sergeant.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21:  
>[Day 26] MO-49573<p>

Just as had been expected there was a 'spontaneous' 2am drill for the pilots. They were jostled from their bunks by Lt. Edgar and hustled down to the hangar in staggering, disoriented lines. Heero had tried his best to blink back his fatigue, and from the looks of it he was doing a better job at it than some of his colleagues, who were tripping over their own feet and running into walls.

They entered the hangar noisily, pilots yelling at one another in the confusion, Edgar screaming over a loudspeaker for them to start shipping out, and confused and groggy mechanics cursing and hissing to themselves as their half-completed mecha were being dragged to the launch dock.

Heero had wasted no time in getting to his suit. His leg was killing him, but he willed the agony away. There was no time to think on it. He saw Duo sitting up on his cot in front of the mobile suit. There were parts lying around the workstation, and an enormous welder sitting off to the side along with a few spare sheets of neotitanium. The mobile suit itself was completely patched up, the new paint almost completely dry. Heero tried not to smile. Duo was the goofiest, most annoying person he knew, but damn if he wasn't efficient and completely reliable. There would be no punishment from James and Edgar for their unit. It seemed that they were completely ready for launch. He jogged up to his mechanic, placed his hand gently on his sleepy friend's arm and then took off like a bat out of hell up the catwalk. He jumped into the piloting seat and kicked the control to close the hatch. Outside he could hear the siren indicating that the lifts were grabbing the suit. It jerked as if was dragged off.

The Haro squealed happily as he popped it down onto its dock. It twisted and turned. "MISSION ACCEPTED. MISSION ACCEPTED."

"Hn. Mission, accepted." Heero said softly as he tapped the controls to reveal the surprise mission. It scrolled across the tiny command screen. Heero skimmed it quickly before closing it. Easy enough. The pilots were all supposed to attack a single target, and whoever got to it first and eliminated it was the victor.

It seemed like such an elementary exercise, but he knew that it would be more difficult than it seemed. Piloting these suits was the main difficulty. It just took so much out of a person. Expecting the already fatigued pilots to perform this mission right after their previous one… it was brutal.

It was all extremely difficult, but Heero knew it was intended to be a test to weed out the weak. He knew he had to perform his best to stand out. If he stood out he would win Noah's trust, or whomever Noah worked for, and they would be more inclined to keep him on the team. He would be able to access more of the Hathcock Project's technology. It would make their mission easier, though perhaps it wouldn't be easy on him personally.

The Aequitas unit thrummed loudly as it began to start up under the ministrations of the command tower's control. Heero would pilot the unit, but the command tower was ultimately in charge of activation and termination. It made sense. Otherwise Heero could just run off with their precious secrets. There had to be a check and balance system.

"AE-02. Activating M.E.I. Fusion." Heero heard Edgar saying over the comm. Again his body began to grow heavy and sink into his seat. His fingertips felt like they were on fire. The flame flowed up his arms and settled in his chest, warming his skin. A peculiar tingle began to itch his feet and palms. The sensation worked its way up to his neck. His vision blurred and then darkened. The flash of yellow light, and then he saw everything from the perspective of his mobile suit once again.

"Welcome back," M.E.I. greeted in its sensual monotone. Heero felt the system take over his body controls. It regulated his breathing and heart rate manually. He assumed it did this so he could devote all of his mental capacities to piloting. It explained why he couldn't seem to catch his breath when the system was extracted.

Heero moved his arms experimentally. The unit responded smoothly. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear the Haro unit chirping faintly. "FUSION. FUSION. FUSION."

It was time for the mission.

"All units. Find the target. Destroy it. Your colleagues are your enemies," Edgar said darkly across the comm. Despite Heero's exhaustion he sprang into action, launching his mobile suit out into open space. With the optical zoom he could see across the darkness, visualizing a faint glimmer in the distance he immediately recognized as L3 colony cluster. He twisted himself to the side and looked 45 degrees to his left to see the faint dark orb of Earth plunged into night. Just on the cusp of the planet he could see a glistening sliver of golden light as the Earth twisted under the warmth of the sun.

Earth. Somewhere down there Relena was working to maintain Peace. Quatre, Trowa and Wufei were there, too, fighting for the same cause.

And here he was, sitting in the very mobile suit that threatened their life's work.

He twisted again, adjusted his position and began working the coordinates for the empty container he was to destroy through his mind's eye. As if he were looking through a screen grids began to trace across his vision, creating a virtual pathway for him to travel on. He made his way across the imaginary lines toward the target.

"Hostile mobile suit, 0921." M.E.I. said loudly, filling his ears with her smooth voice. Heero turned to face the indicated direction, just in time to see the pale green beam of light dispatched from a beam cannon barreling in his direction. He dodged out of the way and raised his own cannon. The targeting circle bounced erratically in front of him as he tried to pinpoint his target, careening backwards, still en route toward the canister. Quickly racing up to him was another Aequitas suit, AE-12. Heero recognized the number as that of Trexis. But Trexis had been dispatched, hadn't he?

Another shot was directed at him. He tumbled easily out of the way and returned it with a shot of his own. It missed, but he hadn't been expecting it to be so easy.

"Well, what have we here? 02, huh? Who are you?" A strange, strained voice came into Heero's mind. It was the pilot of AE-12. "Nice defense. But I wonder… what would happen if I caught you?" Heero shot at the suit again and careened backwards, dropped an eighth of a mile and began zig-zagging across the open space. To his surprise the other suit was keeping up with him. He attempted to lock on to the other suit, but couldn't due to his own erratic movements and the evasive movements of the other suit.

There was something else about this suit. It was glistening and glowing, emitting a long trail of pale green sparkles in its wake. It moved fast, and turned and twisted unlike anything Heero had ever seen. Its maneuverability was astonishing.

"Come to papa…" the voice said with a loud laugh. Suddenly it vanished. Heero scanned the area. There was no sign of the other suit. That is, until it landed on him. It came at him from the top. Heero's radar hadn't even picked it up. It slammed roughly into his suit. Large mechanical arms embraced his torso, squeezing tightly. Heero felt the pain of the hold as if it were himself, the hard metal of the arms pinching him tightly, making it difficult to breathe. He tried to take a shot at it, but he couldn't turn his arm enough to aim the muzzle of his weapon at it. "Look at that. It seems you are stuck."

Heero snarled and in desperation tried to knee the other suit. He only accomplished a faint kick, his lower leg searing with pain from his previous wound.

"What's wrong? Don't want to talk? Cat got your tongue? Hm… I heard you were the best. Seems like they were wrong." The other suit said with a cackle. It released an arm to retrieve its beam weapon. It sprang to life with a loud crackling sound. It too was glowing green, like the shower of particles pouring from the back of the unit. Heero saw an opening. When the other suit pulled one arm away it freed his arm up. He reached up and grabbed the assaulting suit's arm before it could plunge its beam saber into his chest.

"Ah! Now, this is what I like." The voice said. Heero strained as he tried to hold the beam saber away from him. He pulled with all of his strength, trying his best to dislocate the arm of the other mobile suit. He heard the other pilot grunting as he did so, but it was no use. The suits were too evenly matched.

"Hm… you're a tough one, but I am far superior. Here, let me show you." The other suit released Heero, zipped backwards and then thrust forward at a speed Heero had never seen before. He could barely see the suit as it swept at him, its beam saber raised with the intention of skewering him. Heero snarled in frustration, rolled to the right, let go of his rifle and activated his own beam saber. When the other Aequitas barreled past he took a slash at it, cutting off its leg from the knee down. The other pilot screamed. His screams filled Heero's ears and caused his ever-present headache to worsen. The other suit twisted and writhed in the weightlessness of space. It grabbed its damaged leg and writhed again. There was something unsettling about watching a mobile suit move like a human. Heero began to back away with his weapon raised, prepared to defend, but not necessarily ready to finish off something so vulnerable looking.

His optical zoom locked on to the strange cone-like generator on the back of the unique, and now very damaged, Aequitas unit 12. It was emitting strange glowing green particles in all directions. Was that its power source? And why did this suit have something so unique? Was that was made it to powerful and quick?

The AE-12 was too preoccupied with its pain to pursue him, so Heero continued on with his mission. He found the container and destroyed it before the other suits could even show up to challenge him.

Being released from M.E.I. Fusion was easier this time. Heero was ready to take control of his body again, and by the time the mobile suit was docked back in the hangar he was autonomically breathing. His heart was steady and heavily beating.

The hatch slid open and he unhitched himself wearily from the harnesses before grabbing Haro and tiredly exiting the catwalk.

"WE WON. WE WON. WE WON." Haro exclaimed, bobbling happily in his arms. Solo was standing on the catwalk observing the suit. Heero went to lean on the railing beside him and turned to regard the suit. It had a few cosmetic scrapes on the chest and arms. The damage had been mirrored on his body, faint burns were left across his flight suit in the same places were the mobile suit took damage.

"There was another suit out there," Heero said quietly, his eyes searching the hangar for unit 12. It was nowhere to be seen.

Apparently it wasn't being kept in the same hangar. "It had a strange power source. It was fast. So fast, I could barely keep up."

He stared at his mobile suit for a long moment. It was so much like Wing, it was frightening. Everything from its helmet design to the shape of the chest and hatch. And yet he didn't feel comfortable in this suit. It may have looked just like his old Gundam, but it was nothing like it.

And it stood for something completely different.

Heero heard footsteps coming up the catwalk. He turned to who he thought was Duo, only to see Noah's smiling face beaming down at him. "Great job, Ritter! We saw everything! What an amazing show!"  
>Heero wanted to punch the fucker in the face. How could he be so happy? As far as Heero knew the entire mission was a bust. He had gotten assaulted by a mystery mobile suit. He had damaged the mystery suit, but hadn't destroyed it. He had destroyed the container, but that was child's play. What was this idiot getting at?<p>

"You went against our prototype. Did you find it a challenge? We honestly hadn't expected any of your first version suits to be able to neutralize it, but somehow you managed. It was amazing. Don't worry about the damages, we'll take care of that."

Like Heero gave a fuck about the damage to the other suit, or the other pilot. He was pissed. So they had another suit, a better version, and they intended on using the lesser suits to test it? He had been acting as a test for unit 12? He frowned and clutched the Haro tightly against his stomach to keep from choking the other young man.

"It looks like you passed the test. Soon enough, we'll get you and a few others in to a special unit. You'll be moving out of the main pilot dorm and into an elite sector." Noah nodded at Solo and smiled again. "Well, be ready tomorrow. You'll start training with your new unit. We are looking for leaders. If you prove yourself, you will be the captain of that group. Try your best."

Was this his idea of some sort of motivational speech? Heero just nodded. Noah was just about to leave when Heero thought of something.

"Excuse me, Sir. May I ask for special permission to stay in the hangar tonight. I would like to personally assist my mechanic in repairing this suit's damage. I feel that working on the mobile suit personally will optimize my piloting potential."

Noah paused in his retreat and shrugged. "Sure, why not? How eager you are. I am impressed. Go ahead. Tomorrow you will be ready at 0715. You are being reassigned to the Elites."

Heero nodded and watched Noah move on to the next team. He looked over at Solo and frowned. "What are the Elites?" And where the hell was Duo?

.

The entire battle had been broadcast throughout the hangar, and while the mechanics had been roused from sleep by James, they had been ordered to standby for any necessary repairs. Duo had found it odd, but when unit Ae-12 had shown up on screen he had known exactly why.

So that was what a GN drive could do. Earth was fucked.

Not only did it improve speed and maneuverability by upwards of sixty percent, but the damned thing was practically unstoppable. With the right pilot, it could have taken on all six Gundams and whooped their asses without breaking a sweat. Heero was the right pilot.

James gave him a smug look as Solo came running into the hangar with the other flight sergeants. He looked surprisingly awake. When unit 02 dispatched the threat, the Sweeper grinned and headed towards Duo's bay. The American didn't bother to watch the rest of the exercise. Destroying an empty container wasn't a real mission, anyway.

They had used the Aequitas pilots as guinea pigs against a GN drive-powered suit. They could have been killed. Duo wanted to break something.

"What the hell is powering that suit?" he asked James, his voice low and dangerous. Duo already knew, but he had to act stupid.

The sergeant gave him an unhappy glare. "I don't know. I've never seen it before." Duo believed him, too. It seemed that Noah was carefully guarding a lot of secrets in this organization.

When his unit docked, Duo headed for the catwalk. Noah was traipsing through the place, headed for Heero, so the violet-eyed agent hung back. That guy gave him the creeps. Once the man had moved on to another unit Duo approached his pilot, who looked pretty damned angry, and Solo, who was talking to his brother quietly.

"...have no idea. I've heard there was an elite squadron, but I've never seen anything." He looked up when Duo joined them. He was about to speak again when a loud catcall from the floor of the hangar caught their attention. Duo leaned over the rail and looked down to see James giving him a sly grin and a thumbs-up. He rolled his eyes and sighed. Great. Now he wasn't going to be able to even look at Solo without squirming.

"We need to talk," he said. He shoved Heero back into the cockpit of his suit, grabbed Solo by the wrist, and dragged the other man in behind him before slamming his fist into the release lever. The cockpit closed with a hiss behind them. "That suit was powered by a reactor called a GN drive. I found the blueprints for it on Lowe's computer."

When Heero opened his mouth to interrupt him with an obvious question he waved the other agent to be quiet. "Not important, right now. Your suit's scheduled to get one too. They're planning to take this unit and any other GN equipped suits to Earth."

.

Heero was silenced by the gravity of the situation. So they were going to attack Earth with the elite suits, which apparently had GN drives. Heero had seen firsthand the power of the GN drives, and he could only assume that they were capable of even more than the little he had witnessed.

"The pilot in unit 12 was good, even if he had a handicap against me with the new drive." He held the Haro firmly against his chest and sighed. "I guess my objective is to get into the Elite group and take control of it. If the GN drives are created for attack on the Earth, then the new group is our new target." He narrowed his eyes slightly and then looked up at Solo, who had been oddly quiet. Did he know more than he was letting on? He was supposed to be their source of intel, and yet these drives and the elite task force somehow had managed to surprise them. Heero didn't like surprises. Especially those of the overpowered mobile suit kind.

"I'm staying here tonight." He said plainly, informing Duo of his recent development. "I am supposed to be helping you repair the suit, and then in a few hours I am going to be relocated to the Elite squadron. I am assuming you both are coming with me."

But he couldn't be so sure. The Haro unit swiveled and chirped softly in his lap. It was just one thing after another lately. First he had to deal with M.E.I. and now this.

"I think I got the hang of the M.E.I. OS." He hadn't really thought on it until now, but the system seemed to be less aggressive toward him while working in the mobile suit. Perhaps now that he had been screened for ability it was giving him more freedoms to pilot? During his last assignment he hardly had any resistance from the OS at all.

"I think I am beginning to understand why the system had been developed the way it has." He settled back in his seat and peered up at Solo and Duo through the darkness of the cockpit. "It is unbeatable, light years ahead of the current technology. There is no way anyone can develop a system faster or more thorough than this one, but there is a trade off. It allows the pilot complete control of a mobile suit in ways that have never been achieved before now, but in doing so it makes the pilot become the suit. It makes you feel the pain of the weapon, and every hit and tumble is your own. I'm not sure about this, but I think the point is that it was developed with its own deterrent for war."

He saw Solo's eyebrow quirk at this idea, and Duo's nose scrunch up in confusion. "In the past I have read that wars were fought between people. Soldier against soldier on a battlefield faced off. Thousands of men crashing into one another, sacrificing their individual lives. Now, we fight with weapons from long distance. Missiles don't require human sacrifice, and many times the destruction of a mobile suit doesn't necessarily mean the death of the pilot inside. This suit grants limitless power and control, but in doing so the pilot must put their life and safety on the line. Faced with this notion, one would be hesitant to attack another if it was their life that was at stake. Just like in the past."

He sighed and held the Haro tighter against his chest. The idea hadn't come to him before, only just now poured into his head. So this was what they were trying to accomplish? Protecting the colonies? Fighting for spacenoid's rights, and showing the world that there was a force in this galaxy that could rule all, but at a price.

This was much more complicated than Heero could have ever imagined. "I am not sure what GN drives are, or how they work, but I am sure in time they will change everything we know about mobile suits and piloting. Already, the M.E.I. OS has completely changed my concept of these things. Solo, I need you to run a request for an audience with Odin Lowe for me. Also, can you ask Noah if I can have my own computer terminal brought to my new hangar? Tell him I am very interested in catching up on my astrophysics studies, as well as mobile suit and colony history."

He reached up to brush his own bangs out of his tired eyes and smirked up at Duo. "And you. I know you have something to eat. Let me have some." He knew that Duo was notorious for hoarding food. It was an amusing habit that often led to Heero finding candy bars and bags of chips hidden away in toolboxes and random drawers in their filing cabinets back in Brussels. "I haven't eaten anything since yesterday."

.

Duo rolled his eyes. Here they were, elbows-deep in the biggest terrorist shitstorm since the Eve Wars, and Heero was more interested in snacks than the billion-credit GN drive these rebels were getting ready to strap to his back.

"You're unbelievable, y'know that?" He looked over at Solo, silently grateful for the relative darkness of the cockpit. "Second drawer from the bottom of my bigger toolbox," he sighed. "Grey bag. Bring the whole thing up here?" Solo gave him an odd look but obeyed. Duo didn't bother to close the hatch behind him. He studied his partner closely. "I don't know why you're interested in repairing your own suit. That's my job. Why don't you crash on my bunk, and I'll put Yuy's useless ass to work?"

Was he thrilled that Heero would be with him all night? Of course. But being this close to the other agent was playing hell with his self-control. He couldn't afford to slip up in front of James and the other mechanics.

When Solo reappeared with Duo's stash, he grabbed the bag, purposefully avoiding the Sweeper's gaze, and tossed it to Heero before leaning back against the doorway to the cockpit and crossing his arms over his chest. "Can you handle the GN drive?"

.

"I don't know what to expect from the GN drive. I think I should be able to handle it, though." He was actually eager to get his hands on it. He wanted to know what the technology was capable of. For now he had to focus on the task at hand. He had to get some rest, and his suit needed to be prepped for tomorrow's training assignment.

Heero knew his mission objective at the moment consisted of one thing, and that was maintaining relative health so he could get his hands on more of the Hathcock Project's technology. He caught Duo's stash and opened it, carefully sifting through the pilot's snacks to find the most agreeable option inside. He found a decent looking apple and a granola bar. Wait... what was this? He picked out a strange looking package from the bottom of the bag and held it up.

Freeze dried ice cream sandwich? Seriously, who the hell actually eats these things? He shrugged and shoved it back into the bag before standing up. He handed the bag carefully back to Maxwell.

"Thanks. I think I will take you up on that offer." He set the Haro on its dock and exited the cockpit without another word, biting into the apple with a smirk. He would leave the repairs to Duo and Solo. His intention wasn't necessarily to actually do the work, but to stay near his teammates. He hadn't gotten much sleep in the barracks, only allowed himself to just skirt the top of his unconsciousness for thirty minutes at a time. Here he knew he could sleep, knowing that Duo and Solo were nearby.

He made quick work of ingesting the granola bar, finished the apple and then slid down to lie on the cot set up just beside the workbench. He hadn't bothered to change out of his flight suit, finding the superficial burns on his chest to be hardly worth tending to. He situated himself on his side with his back facing the workbench and closed his eyes. He could hear the familiar sounds of pneumatic tools whirring and ratcheting behind him.

For the first time in two weeks he fell completely asleep.

.

Installing the GN drive was apparently a task not relegated to the fleet's mechanics. Three hours into repairing the mostly superficial dents and scratches to the chest plate of their unit, Duo had to turn off his welding torch and flip his safety visor up, Solo doing the same where he was kneeling beside him on the scaffolding, to hear what James was saying to him. "There'll be a crew coming through here in about an hour to mount the new hardware onto your unit. Apparently the programming and circuitry harness are already installed."

Duo arched an eyebrow incredulously at James but said nothing. The old sergeant snorted. "Yeah, I know. They like keeping everyone in the dark, around here. I don't like it anymore than you do, kid. Just roll your pilot over and bunk down for a few hours. That kid looks almost as exhausted as you two." He clapped an enormous, calloused hand down on Solo's shoulder and smiled wearily. He was missing a tooth, and the rest of them were plated in titanium alloy. "You three do good work. We're lucky to have you on our side."

As soon as he'd cleared their portion of the hydraulic catwalk Duo slumped down against the unit. "Yeah," he sighed. "Real lucky." He felt guilty. Despite their rocky start, Duo genuinely liked Sergeant James. The grizzled old war veteran was the kind of guy who had raised him vicariously amongst the Sweepers. He was harsh because he had to be to keep younger comrades from making stupid mistakes that could kill someone. Deceiving the man felt wrong, but the American knew he didn't have a choice. "Let's call it a night," he muttered.

His tools properly put away, Duo glanced down at his watch and groaned quietly. They had to be up in less than two hours, and he was dragging some serious ass. Without preamble, he killed the lights in his hangar bay and approached his bunk cautiously. Sure, Heero was perfectly friendly while awake, but, sleeping, he was fucking dangerous. Deathscythe's pilot was gazing at his toolbox and debating about which tool to toss at his partner to get his attention when Solo rolled his blue eyes, snorted, and pushed past Duo. He reached out and shoved Heero's sleeping form over unceremoniously, and collapsed onto the bunk against his brother.

Duo stared in horror, waiting for the Japanese agent to shoot their fellow Preventer, snap his neck or punch him, but Heero just grunted and went back to sleep. The hell? Maybe he was just that tired. Or maybe he'd become so accustomed to both Duo and Solo's presences that even dead to the world asleep he still recognized them.

Solo gave his childhood friend a lazy smirk, ruffled Heero's messy hair affectionately, and patted the remaining foot of space on the bunk beside him, giving Duo a jokingly suggestive look. The violet-eyed pilot was reminded suddenly just how crazy the Sweeper was at times. Sure, he played the quiet, non-threatening babysitter well, but he still had the same training that Heero had undergone; the only difference between them was a five-year age difference and a gap in emotional capacity, but even that was dubious. Solo had difficulties empathizing with other people. Heero had problems expressing emotions of any kind. They were so alike it was a little fucking scary.

Duo flicked the other agent off and punched him half-heartedly in the shoulder as he dropped onto the thin mattress beside him. "You're an ass, y'know that?"

Grinning, Solo shrugged. "Yeah," he said quietly, "But I figure it's safer for me to act as a buffer and keep you two from screwing one another in the middle of the hangar and blowing our cover." Duo snorted. So the fucker was useful for something, after all.

"Whatever. Just keep your hands to yourself," Duo yawned. He was unconscious in moments.

.

Heero had been content in his pursuit of sleep. He had been so sleep deprived, and so trusting in Duo and Solo to keep his protection, that when he was shoved in his unconscious state he hadn't so much as twitched his trigger finger. He was exhausted beyond all reasoning. He couldn't remember a time when he was so drained. There were no dreams, no recollections, no sensations. Just an inky blackness. Calm. Serene. Peaceful.

His internal clock jolted him awake at 0700. He sat up robotically and felt a strain of a muscle in his side as he did so. He must not have stirred at all in his sleep. The hangar was dimly lit, only the red emergency lights glowed along the catwalks and by the doorways. The faint sound of metal clanging metal sounded from a lift chain swinging gently in the current of the climate control vent, clinking melodically against a hydraulic arm of the mobile suit lift.

He lifted a hand wearily to push his hair from his face. The stubborn locks fell back automatically to their usual positions across his eyes and cheeks. He grunted, stretched his arms over his head and heard the faint cracking of his thoracic vertebrate slipping back into alignment just below his shoulder blades. He felt much better, having finally gotten adequate sleep.

He turned to his right and saw a large figure lying on the bunk. He immediately recognized the form to be Solo. His brother was turned on his side with his arm draped across… Duo?

Heero stared for a long moment, processing this. Solo wasn't that stupid, was he? He narrowed his eyes and frowned before reaching over calmly to grab Solo by the offending arm. He pulled it with a sharp yank toward himself, rolling the other Preventer toward him, and with the other hand grabbed Solo's index finger and before the his doppelganger could react he snapped the man's finger out of its socket.

He released the hand and stared down coolly at his brother and the sleeping figure of _his _baka partner. There was no way in hell he was going to let an offense such as that go without punishment. Nobody touched Duo but him.

.

There were certain noises that would wake any former soldier from a dead sleep: base alarms, gunshots, barking dogs, and bones breaking. Duo was almost positive he'd heard at least a dislocated joint when his eyes flew open groggily and he looked around for the source.

They were in the hangar. He knew that. He was sharing a cramped bunk with the Wonder Twins, both of whom were glaring daggers at each other. Heero looked ready to spring at his brother and beat his face in, and Solo was holding onto his right hand with his left and cursing under his breath.

What the fuck was up with those two, _now_?

"Yuy?" he asked, keeping his voice down. His watch told him that it was 0700 hours, and there were already slight sounds of movement around the hangar. Two pairs of cobalt blue eyes turned to him and he pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. He was certain he'd picked up that particular habit from Wufei. "What's going on?"

Solo flicked his gaze back to their pilot briefly, eyes full of loathing, and then he reached out with his right hand. Duo saw the dislocated index finger instantly. "How the hell-" the American began, and then everything sort of clicked into place in his tired mind. He leveled a deadly gaze at Heero. "Did you do this?"

What the fuck was Heero thinking? Like they could afford for one of them to be physically incapacitated in any form or fashion in the middle of a mission of this magnitude. Duo took the Sweeper's hand in his as carefully as possible and grit his teeth. "I'm going to push it back into the joint," he said quietly. Solo just watched him impassively. It was almost unnerving. He'd seen Heero with the same expression after being shot and falling from buildings. With a familiar flick of his wrist and a small amount of force, he fixed Solo's dislocated index finger and watched the other agent flex his hand experimentally before getting up from the bunk and walking away wordlessly.

Solo had looked angry and more than a little hurt, and Duo doubted it had anything to do with physical pain. Deathscythe's pilot was furious. What the hell had Heero been thinking? He was lucky that his brother hadn't beaten the unholy shit out of him. Solo definitely outweighed the other soldier by a few dozen pounds. More importantly, they were supposed to be teammates.

Hadn't they gotten this shit over with weeks ago? This whole situation was getting out of hand.

It got a whole lot worse when James strolled by their bay, noting their flight sergeant's absence and the obvious tension between pilot and mechanic, he snorted and chuckled. "Lover's spat?" he smirked. "You can't have them both, Johnson. Weren't you getting hot and heavy with Yuy last night?" The veteran gave Heero a pitying look. "I think you're barking up the wrong tree, kid."

Duo wanted to knock those metal-coated teeth down the old man's throat. He glared at James and the man put his hands up in an appeasing gesture and backed away, disappearing into the next bay.

Goddamnit.

.

Heero's eyes widened a few millimeters at the mention of 'Yuy' getting hot and heavy with Duo. The man was insinuating a lot in only a few sentences. Heero's expression turned icy, a defense mechanism he had picked up during training. It was something he had been taught by Dr. J after the first time he was brainwashed. Never show anyone how you feel. They could use it against you. He had made that mistake once. He had expressed sorrow at the untimely accidental death of that little girl...

At the memory of the smoking, charred body of that girl and her dog his eyes glazed over with another layer of ice. He stood up slowly and stalked away in the direction of his mobile suit.

He couldn't deal with this now. Not now. He had a mission.

If Duo wanted to snuggle with his brother while they were sleeping, let him. If Solo wanted to be close to Duo like that, then fine. They were fucking behind his back? Let them. He didn't care anymore.

Which was a lie. He cared a little too much.

He slid into the seat with a blank expression and began booting up the OS. Haro squealed loudly in greeting. "RITTER. RITTER. RITTER."

"Silence mode," Heero said coolly. The Haro unit blinked sadly and turned to face away from him, perhaps sensing his agitation. Heero began to firmly prod the control panel, bringing up new statistics for the mobile suit. The GN drive had been installed, and according to the Haro's diagnostic abilities it was ready to go.

.

Duo literally watched his partner shut down emotionally. It was almost identical to the expression he'd just seen on Solo's face. And once Heero got to that point, there was really no reasoning with him.

Except that he couldn't afford to fly in that state of mind. Duo didn't doubt his piloting abilities at all, but he knew damned well that Heero's logic and reasoning were becoming more and more affected by his feelings, and that was going to get him hurt.

But why the hell had he gotten angry with his brother in the first damned place?

None of this made any sense, and they were both acting like bratty teenaged boys, not grown fucking men, Preventers agents, genetically-engineered career soldiers. Was Duo the only one of their motley little group with any common sense left?

The American scrambled hastily off the bunk and all but ran up the access ladder to the catwalk, punching in the code to open the cockpit hatch on unit AE-02 and ignoring the hydraulic whirring emanating from the GN drive now installed on the back of the suit. The hatch sprang open with a soft hiss and Duo marched inside, hitting the release and waiting until the door had closed behind him. He reached over the console array and grabbed Heero by the front of his flightsuit, shaking him roughly.

"I don't know what the fuck your problem is, but this stops now. You know damned well I was with you and not your damned brother; I told James I was with 'Yuy' when he caught me out after curfew. I didn't lie. He just assumed I meant Solo. And if you have that little faith in me then just spit it out now and we can get all of our cards on the table, 'Ro."

Duo was so angry that his hands were trembling. "What the fuck happened this morning that you needed to hurt him?" The next question that sprang from the American's mouth was completely unexpected but valid. "What the hell do I have to do to you to make you flip your shit and hurt _me _like that?"

The pain in Solo's eyes as he'd stalked off had startled Duo. The Sweeper wasn't supposed to feel much of anything, but he'd obviously been upset. And with as much as the man had tried to watch out for Heero-not that Wing's pilot really needed it- by defending him against Wufei and Lowe and anyone else who tried to pick a fight with the Japanese agent, Heero's behavior was shocking.

.

Heero didn't know how to handle this. He stared impassively at his enraged partner for a long moment, shocked that Duo even came up here to chastise him. He was going to blow their cover. He needed to pacify the other pilot quickly.

"Nobody touches you but me," Heero said flatly, his face completely devoid of any emotion. He didn't care how that sounded. He didn't care that he was probably being an irrational prick about the whole thing. He had reacted to something his brother had done. He wouldn't take it back. "If you feel so sorry for him, then go _coddle _him. Now get out."

He needed Duo to get out and to stop yelling at him. He needed to get away from the other pilot before he got angrier. He needed to repress his urge to beat the shit out of his brother, or anyone for that matter.

His watch beeped. It was 0715. He reached over to kick the control lever that released the hatch. It hissed open loudly.

.

Duo arched an eyebrow at his best friend and knew that his expression was lethal. "I'm not a piece of real estate, _Ritter_," he seethed. He wanted to deck the other pilot, but now wasn't the time. Instead, he smiled coldly and nodded. "I'm outta here. For good. You're just too fucking unstable."

He was out of the suit and down on the hangar floor before he really thought about just how callous and harsh his words had been. Fuck it. Duo slammed his tool chest's drawers shut angrily. It was done. Heero needed to keep his damned head in the mission, not assault his flight sergeant. And when Solo stopped licking his wounds and came limping back, Duo was going to get him alone and get some fucking answers from the idiot.

Heero's possessive streak was getting out of hand. There was a simple solution to that-he'd just cut the Japanese agent off. Did he want to? Right now, yeah. He was pretty damned sure that was just his anger talking, though. But right now he wanted to get back into that cockpit and pound Heero's handsome face into a bloody pulp.

Who the fuck was his partner to treat Duo like property? Last time he'd checked, he wasn't married. He certainly wasn't in a long-term, committed relationship. He loved Heero, a lot, but that by itself didn't mean anything. Duo had never been in a serious relationship with anyone.

Except Solo.

But he'd been just a kid. And while he knew damned well that he'd been in love with his childhood friend, Duo was well aware that Solo had changed a lot in seven years.

Did he still love Solo?

Shit.

Duo buried his face in his hands, elbows braced on the top of one tool chest, and sighed explosively. Maybe he did. Maybe he was confused about this whole situation, and with practically no sleep and ridiculous amounts of stress, he wasn't able to think clearly anymore. Maybe he needed out of this mission. No. He wouldn't leave these two idiots behind. They'd just kill each other. Or maybe _he _was the problem, here.

There were footsteps behind him, and Duo didn't need to turn around to recognize the slow, even gait. Solo had wandered back into the hangar bay and was standing less than two feet behind him. "I musta rolled into you in my sleep," he began awkwardly, trying his best to keep his voice down. "I guess even after all this time it's just comfortable sleeping next to you. He woke up and lost it."

That explained a lot. And Duo felt strangely complacent about Solo's admission. He nodded once and turned away from the tool chest to look at the Sweeper. "We've got shit to do," he muttered. "We're going to Lowe's office. Everyone's gonna be real busy supervising the Elite suit practice, and we weren't invited to the party." He brushed past the older agent and ignored the tightening in his chest at the brief contact.

No need to analyze that. It wasn't fucking important. Nothing was, anymore, but this damned mission. "Let's look up those accounts."

.

Heero watched Duo storm off and sighed. He hadn't meant to be so harsh, but he had to shake the other pilot off for the time being. He knew he hurt Duo. He knew he had hurt Solo, too. Perhaps he was destined to do nothing but hurt others for the rest of his life.

He hadn't ever really understood his infatuation with the other pilot. It had come out of nowhere. One minute he was yelling at the American about the inconsistencies of his reports, and the next he was admiring how beautifully the other pilot's hips swayed when he walked, or the little determined smirk the idiot made when he shot at a target on the range at 100 yards or more.

And now he had completely screwed up everything he had worked for up until now. He had trusted Duo. He hadn't liked the things that James had said, but when Duo explained them he believed him. He still didn't trust Solo. He had shared DNA with the guy, and Solo had been standing up for him for some time now, but that didn't mean a thing. He had no history with the guy. At least, any that he could remember, and perhaps he wasn't capable of being a brother. Or a partner. Or a lover, to anyone.

He was a pilot. He was only good at taking orders and completing missions. He would dedicate himself to that.

But why did his chest hurt so much? He frowned and stared down at the Haro, which was now bobbling uneasily in its dock.

"Pilot AE-02, prepare for launch. Potential Elites will rally at coordinate. M.E.I. Fusion, activated." Heero heard Edgar's voice speaking over his comm. He felt his suit being dragged away toward the launching bay. Immediately the queer sensation of his body sinking into the seat began again, and within moments the dull ache of emotion he had been experiencing was gone, replaced now by the throbbing sensation of pure power gathering at his spine. He assumed it was the suit's interpretation of the effect the new GN drive was having on it. His vision was now the suit's, and he looked down just as he was being dragged off to see Solo and Duo leaving the hangar together.

He loved Duo. He couldn't deny this. It hurt that he couldn't do anything to stop this. He couldn't stop the yelling, and the frustration and the miscommunication. How was he supposed to work this out?

And now he was being dragged away, again, to deal with all of this on his own.

Maybe Duo needed someone like Solo. His brother was older, with more experience. He seemed more likable and personable. He was just as capable of taking care of the American as Heero was, but perhaps more adept in the emotion department. He had been with Duo before Heero had ever even met the Deathscythe pilot. He probably understood his partner better, and maybe knew just what to say to appease him.

Duo would be happier with him.

The thought sent a strange sensation into his mind. Immediately he heard M.E.I.'s voice speaking loudly across his consciousness, "Erratic breathing detected. Cardiac Arrhythmia. Attempting to modify."

This is my heart aching, Heero thought, and here this operating system is trying to fix me.

The two Preventers vanished somewhere in the darkness. The pressurizing chamber closed in around him, locked, and then dumped him into open space.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22  
>[Day 26] MO-49573 : Elites<p>

Heero had passed his 'test' to get a position in the Elites. The test had consisted of a variety of maneuvers performed in the meteor belt against non-moving targets, moving targets, and then a spar with Lt. Edgar himself in a borrowed Aequitas unit.

The GN drive had made everything a lot smoother. It was just as Heero had suspected it would be. The drive acted as a controller that both propelled and slowed the mobile suit, eliminating the need for stabilizing thrusters or reverse propulsion used previously in older models to slow down or stop. The response was exhilarating.

Instead of returning to the normal unit hangar he was directed to a separate hangar, located on the underside of the resource satellite, hidden by the shadow the ever-present sun cast along the bottomside. A hatch opened and Heero was hailed in.

He entered the hangar, parked his suit in the nearest docking bay and was ripped from his reliance with M.E.I. once more. His body quivered violently as he was once again forced to take over his own body's functions. It took a minute or two for him to regain his composure before he grabbed his Haro and stepped out of the cockpit. He was met by Lt. Edgar, who was standing beside a very pleased looking Noah.

"Welcome to Urim Unit, our new elite task force. There are five of you now, though we may add more units later." Noah gestured to the surrounding hangar. Heero saw four more suits scattered throughout the large space, including AE-12 sitting only twenty meters away. "Training from here on out is going to be brutal. If you thought what you endured before was difficult..." Noah's face contorted into a vague smile. "Well, we know you can handle it."

Heero frowned and watched as Noah turned to bark a command down to the hangar floor. Four young pilots in flight suits who had been sitting on gray storage crates nearby hopped up and ran over quickly. They stood in formation at the bottom of the catwalk stairs. Noah descended the stairway with Edgar and Heero followed. He waited on the bottom step while Noah addressed the team.

"I'd like for you to welcome your new teammate, Pilot Ritter. AE-02, your new sign will be 'ICARUS' from here on out."

Heero tilted his head and looked at all of the young pilots standing in front of him, vaguely aware of the Greek myth he was being named after. Hadn't the boy with the wings flown too close to the sun, and then toppled to his doom by the pull of the Earth? He wondered if this was an omen from Noah, or if the kid just liked coming up with ridiculous names for fun.

The other pilots were wearing flight suits of black with white accenting, their codenames written in bold white letters on the right side of their chests, like those ridiculous nametags Une insisted they wore during interoffice orientation.

The nearest pilot was a tan, ethnic looking youth with black hair and even blacker eyes. He greeted Heero with a friendly smirk and a tilt of his head. "Jatayu," Noah introduced.

The next in line was a short boy of Asian descent. Heero assumed Japanese. He had shoulder length brown hair and dark brown eyes and a rather aloof expression. "Tengu," Noah supplied.

Beside him were a set of blond twins, a girl and a boy. "Avalerion and Alerion." The twins both turned to look at Heero. The girl frowned in apparent distaste, and the male simply looked away from him.

Heero wondered which one of these he had battled out in space. He knew it couldn't have been the woman, so it had to be one of the males. But which one? None of them spoke as they stood at attention, listening to Noah ramble on about how they were the elite, and that they were their driving force for the Hathcock Project.

"You will be given the absolute best to perform your tasks. There is nothing you all can't do." Noah smiled broadly and then walked up to Heero and grabbed him by the shoulder, an obnoxious habit Heero was barely able to tolerate, and dragged him towards the group. "After much careful consideration we have determined that Icarus here will be your captain."

Whatever slight friendly regard granted to him only moments ago faded from the eyes of the other pilots. Heero saw the pilot known as Alerion cast his pale blue eyes down to the ground, his brows knitting up in agitation. It was clear that he had been expecting to be crowned with this honor.

Heero didn't feel any personal satisfaction for gaining control of this group. He was glad of it because it would allow him access to the things he needed for his mission, and now he had verification that Noah was, indeed, smitten with him. He also felt confident that if they were following his lead to attack Earth he could prevent harm from coming to the people of the terra, and complete his mission objective of destroying - or at least apprehending - these assaulting suits.

"Now then, you all will start training for atmospheric entry, along with gravity-support physical advancement." Noah turned and motioned to Lt. Edgar to take over, vanishing behind a pile of spare parts. Heero heard the sound of the door hissing open and slamming closed somewhere in the direction Noah had vanished.

"Okay, team. To the training room." Edgar barked, sending the four pilots running towards the back of the hangar. Heero tucked the Haro tighter under his arm and fell into step behind the other pilots. They were led into a large, gray painted room filled with peculiar equipment that Heero began to recognize from his training as a kid before Operation Meteor with Dr. J. There were neural scanners, cardiac monitors, gravity simulators, and pressure chambers designed to imitate different types of atmospheric conditions. There was also a water tank for training the pilots to swim and hold their breaths for extended periods of time, a heat/cool chamber for increasing resistance to extreme temperatures, and other similar torture devices scattered throughout the room.

Along the wall was a shelf with pods intended to hold the Haro units while the pilots worked. There were four already seated high on the shelf, twisting and twitching silently. Heero walked over and set his Haro gently on the shelf. It was silent, still following his order from just before he and Duo had argued.

Immediately assistants and individuals in lab coats led the pilots around the training room. The Japanese boy, Tengu, was being strapped upside down in a gravity-enhancing chamber.

The Indian boy Jatayu was waiting patiently while the techs were strapping heavy weights to his shoulders, providing constant pressure to his body to strengthen his weight bearing on his legs and spine to strengthen them. Heero was familiar with this procedure. All spacenoids risked not having bones strong enough to function adequately on Earth due to the lack of gravity. Even artificial gravity wasn't always enough to strengthen a person's core. Providing weight and making someone stand with their major bones compressed made them grow wider and stronger. Heero had spent many hours training under these same conditions.

"Over here, Icarus," a bright young man motioned for Heero to approach a water chamber. "Please, strip down. We will need you to climb in here..." the young man began explaining the procedure but Heero knew all too well what the large rectangular chamber was for. He had done this a few times when he was younger. He stripped down to his underwear and carefully ascended the ladder to climb into the tank and submerged himself. The assistant handed him a mouthpiece that was streaming 2 liters of oxygen a minute. A large dose. Heero fastened it into his mouth and sunk down into the cold water. The assistant snapped the lid of the container closed and then went to sit at a command station just outside of the clear glass. Heero watched as the man began to punch in data. The room behind the man dimmed, and from just at the edge Heero could see Alerion and Avalerion standing against the wall with their arms crossed. Alerion was staring right at him. Heero locked his eyes with the startling gray-blue hateful glare that was being directed his way.

"Decreasing oxygen. Try to relax." The assistant's voice spoke up through a speaker in the water. Heero nodded and closed his eyes to block out the image of his two teammates from view. He felt the pressure of the thin gas blowing through the mouthpiece lessen. He knew he could handle this test. It was designed to gradually decrease the oxygen given to the subject inside, forcing their body to make use of the little gas given to it. Ultimately, when used for an extended period of time, it would train the subject to be able to keep minimal body functions on a scant amount of oxygen. Heero hadn't done this in years, and he knew his body was not as hardy as it had been when he was fifteen but he was confident he could do it.

He floated weightless in the cool water, trying to relax himself the best he could, trying to think of nothing but the task at hand, but it was no use. The more he tried to forget about it, the more the event only an hour before with Duo and Solo resurfaced in his mind.

He had lost control, and he was embarrassed of it. He had been so cruel and cold to his brother, but he couldn't seem to help himself. In doing what he had he not only widened the gap between Solo and himself but he had caused Duo to grow angry with him. Duo's words were haunting his thoughts, cutting through him like a knife.

_"You're just too fucking unstable..."_

But he was right. Heero felt his breathing quicken as his body became suddenly aware of being oxygen deprived. He slowed his breathing and took a long, deep breath before letting his limbs go limp in attempt to save what little oxygen he was being provided.

He _was _unstable. He had no idea what he was doing. He had thought that he trusted Duo and Solo. He had slept sounder than he had ever slept outside of his own locked down apartment that night with them there, right beside him. He hadn't expected to see what he had, and maybe that was what scared him the most? Maybe that was what has set him off? He thought he trusted his brother and Duo, and then he saw that, and had to hurt someone to make it better in his mind. He had to react and punish. He had never been a vindictive person until just recently, but his sudden affection for Duo had caused him to develop unfamiliar feelings of jealousy and possessiveness.

And Duo didn't deserve any of that.

The point the American had made about Heero possibly hurting him had been like a slap in the face. At first Heero had felt a flare of anger at the accusation, but the more he thought on it, the more he realized that Duo had every reason to be frightened of him.

Despite the years since the war and Heero's attempts at conforming to societal roles and the 'normal' way of life, he was till a soldier and a child of war. He could never completely kill that part of himself. It would always be there, suspicious and lethal, lurking just beneath the surface.

_I don't deserve anyone_, he thought blandly as the oxygen was turned down another notch. He guessed from the lightheaded feeling he was experiencing it was just below 0.5 liters a minute now. He tried to slow his breathing even more, holding his breath for fifteen seconds before taking in another long, meaningful draw of the hardly substantial gas provided for him.

It was like drowning in slow motion.

_I am just a tool_, Heero thought to himself, his thoughts coming lethargically to mind. He was nothing more than a gun. Left alone, he couldn't harm anyone, but directed by emotions or put in the wrong hands he could be the death of even the one person in the world that mattered.

It was time that he faced the facts. He could never be with anyone. Relena didn't want him anymore. Duo couldn't handle him. The world didn't need him for anything other than to work behind the scenes to keep them safe. The colonists had long since forgotten about his deeds, and the sacrifices he had made in their name. Much like the man he was named after, he was nothing but a small pebble in the layers of history, slowly being buried by the new sediment of violence and threat that had begun to pile high over top of him.

He let go then, and exhaled a long-held breath.

A loud, steady beep sounded from somewhere beyond his consciousness. He could hear panicked voices, warped by the water that surrounded him.

"He has coded! Get him out! NOW!"

.

Duo wasn't all that surprised to find Lowe's office yet again unoccupied. Whatever the commander did here at the base, it probably didn't involve a shitload of paperwork. He sank down into the desk chair and began patching a secure connection to start some preliminary work on the bank accounts that Heero's former mentor was so hellbent on liquidating.

The thought of his partner made one of Duo's eyebrows twitch. His fingers moved over the keys out of years of habit and his mind wandered. He'd probably been a little harsh with Heero, but the guy was just fucking impossible, sometimes. Sure, he'd gotten pretty used to the Japanese man's dangerous temper over the last few years; that was nothing compared to the other pilot's sudden possessive streak.

Duo wasn't used to being treated like an object. He was also honestly a bit overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of Heero's feelings.

Beside him, Solo was leaning against the wall, hands shoved into his pants pockets, quietly watching the computer monitor. The Sweeper hadn't said a thing since they'd left the hangar. Duo wasn't sure that he could say anything to the other agent that wouldn't make this whole screwed up situation worse. He knew damned well that he cared for both Solo and his brother more than he probably should have, considering the nature of this mission and the fact that they were, at the end of the day, soldiers. This was going to end ugly.

The accounts he located without effort. Lowe apparently had access to most of them anyway, but it seemed that Noah-or whoever was actually in charge around here-had squirreled away a few obscure accounts. And the deposits made to them were miniscule, almost not worth looking into.

Which was exactly what made Duo trace them first.

There was no point in transferring ten or fifteen credits an hour into an account unless you were purposefully trying to keep the transactions under the radar. The funds were being generated into the account from a location in the L4 colony cluster. Duo could tell that by the routing information; he'd hacked his fair share of bank accounts during the war. The entity associated with that routing information caused his heart to beat double-time.

Winner Enterprises.

What the fuck?

He was typing furiously now. It was a small branch of the corporation, but it was still money from Quatre's company being siphoned to fund a terrorist organization. Did the Sandrock pilot know? Was he in league with Noah?

The Preventers had been compromised. He couldn't contact them with this information and risk tipping his hand if Quatre was indeed a part of this whole operation. Loath as he was to doubt the smiling blonde agent, they'd all done some stupid shit. Whether it was honest ignorance or a misguided attempt to fuck with intergalactic politics, Quatre was now a non-friendly.

Fucking great.

Solo had stepped forward and was reading the screen over his shoulder. "Y'think he knows?" he asked quietly.

Duo shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Solo snorted and sighed. "We have to contact the others. Someone's gotta look into this."

"And risk blowing our cover? Fuck that. We need to find a way to make sure we go dirtside with those crazy-ass suits. We can hunt down the brains behind this whole thing when I'm sure that people aren't being killed on Earth."

This shit was serious. Duo slumped back in the seat and glared at the monitor. He knew Solo had a point, but right now he was pissed. Just how far did this whole conspiracy go? How long had these idiots been plotting? Had the dust even settled after the Eve Wars before they decided to manufacture more weapons?

"I wonder if he's okay?"

Solo's quiet voice-so much like Heero's, but colored with Duo's own dialect and vocabulary-was distant. He was staring at nothing in particular, and he looked very lost. Duo sighed. "He survived two wars. He's impossible to kill." But Duo knew from experience that his best friend bled just like the rest of them.

.

"But I saw the graph. He went asystole." Stammered one of the technicians from beside the desk. The assistant that had been assigned to Heero shrugged and pointed to something on the screen while Heero was being fished out of the tank. The men began murmuring to one another while casting speculative glances in his direction. He knew what they were talking about, and merely sighed and began to carefully wrap himself with the towel another tech had provided.

He had scared the cardiologist. He knew his irregular cardiograph readings would be something that he wouldn't be able to explain to them. He couldn't reveal his previous training to them, and he couldn't let them know that at one point in his adolescence he had been given complete control of all formerly autonomic functions of his body. Dr. J had once told him that to be a true weapon he would have to know when to stop even himself. He had been trained to take complete control of his heart rate and stop it, if given no other way to kill himself. It was a safety mechanism to keep all of the information Heero knew about the Gundams and the colony's plans safe.

He doubted he could actually accomplish this now, years later, but he must have come close. It had been enough to freak out the men who were still scratching their heads and staring confusedly down at that monitors.

"Maybe you should sit down, son." Edgar said from near the desk, his dark eyes regarding the readings the two techs were debating on. Heero walked, dripping, over to a nearby chair and sat down as ordered. Nearby he saw Tengu fumbling with wires in the gravity unit, his face red with concentration and the sudden flow of his blood gathering around his skull. Jatayu was beginning to sweat and strain under the weight that had been strapped to his torso. A tech was dabbing a dry cloth against his head and talking to him quietly. Heero turned to look in the direction the twins had been standing. They were nowhere to be found. Odd, he thought they definitely would be training as well. From the looks of things the blond boy Alerion had it out for him somehow. Heero had a sinking suspicion that the male twin was the pilot of the 12th unit, and probably was the least happy about Heero's new position as their captain.

Once the techs had mulled over the readings for some time one of the cardiologists came over to inspect Heero's heart with a stethoscope. Finding no abnormal arrhythmias, he cleared Heero and deemed him healthy enough to continue training.

The day had continued much in this same fashion. Baseline readings and tests had been performed on him for hours, creating a profile for him as a pilot, and measuring his ability to perform on Earth. He had concocted a lie to explain his familiarity with the blue planet, saying that he had traveled there many times as a child with his father on business. That had been partially true. He had traveled to Earth many times with Odin Lowe for jobs.

After training they were taken to the barracks. It was a long, narrow room with five beds lined up neatly in a row. It was dark, and there were no footlockers or places for personal affects. The Haros were to be docked on tables right beside the beds, no doubt to monitor the pilots in their sleep. Heero found his bed to be the first one in the row closest to the door, and he saw when he entered that a laptop terminal had been left on the foot of his bed with a note. Solo must have followed through with his request. He frowned deeply and picked up the terminal and checked it over. It was basic, with hardly any access or applications, only files upon files of raw data about Earth and the mission, as well as astrophysics, thermodynamics, quantum mechanics and theories of relativity. He decided he would have to write his own scripts to see if he could somehow make this terminal a communication device with the outside, or at least make it an inter-satellite terminal so he could send information back to Duo and Solo.

It would take time to do. His fellow pilots, the Haro system and his commanding officers and technicians were watching him constantly. He decided he would try to do this tonight, when everyone else was asleep under the guise of 'studying'. It wasn't like he was going to be able to sleep with these potential hostiles sharing the same room with him.

He set the laptop aside and placed his Haro firmly on the dock. It bounced and blinked up at him mutely.

"You have thirty minutes to get cleaned up," Edgar, their babysitter, said loudly as the pilots began shuffling over to their beds. "And then we will return to the satellite central for an assembly with the rest of the pilots and crew. Our leader wants to reveal you all to the cause, as well as make a few announcements."

Heero watched as Edgar left the room and locked the door behind him. He tensed and turned around slowly to regard the other pilots who, by now, had gathered together to talk quietly amongst themselves. He felt like a goldfish dropped in a bucket of snapping turtles. It was just a matter of time before someone attempted to strike.

He saw Tengu look up from the group and stare at him, his dark slanted eyes narrowing intently as he did. Jatayu was standing beside the Japanese man, watching Heero in silence. He didn't feel the same animosity from the Indian man as he did from the others, but Heero couldn't be too sure. The twins, Alerion and Avalerion, turned towards one another and exchanged a quiet whisper before Alerion broke away from them and stepped toward Heero a few paces. He stopped and crossed his arms in defiance, his expression cold and irritated.  
>"We don't want you here." Alerion said plainly, his cold blue eyes narrowing. Heero stared at him, unaffected by his aggressive stance, and then shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly.<p>

"I don't think any of you have a say in the matter," he said flatly. "I can see you are all a team, and I don't expect you to willingly accept me, but you have your orders and I have mine. Mine are to lead you into battle against Earth, and yours are to obey my command."

This didn't settle well with Alerion. The blond straightened his back and dropped his arms, his hands forming two tight fists. Heero became keenly aware that there was nowhere for him to go if this man attacked him. The blond also was larger than him, outweighing him by fifty pounds at least. He was tall and lean, but carved out of the same solid muscle that Heero possessed. Only there was more of the other young man's frame to cover. His sister shifted uneasily behind him. Heero looked over at her and watched as she prickled in annoyance under his gaze. She was built with the same pure, raw muscle her brother was. Jatayu was slighter than the twins, but still boldly healthy and a potential threat. The Japanese boy, Tengu, was small and frail looking. Heero assumed he was the most dangerous. He narrowed his eyes at Tengu and wasn't surprised that the Japanese youth matched his glare, and then intensified it twofold.

"We don't approve of you. You have come out of nowhere, boy." Alerion said with a hiss. Heero immediately recognized the haughty tone as the one he had heard from unit 12. This was the man who fought against him in space. Not only was Alerion a formidable threat but also a talented pilot. No wonder the other man was bitter that Heero was given complete control.

"I am no more a boy than you are," Heero said coldly. "You have intentions to harm me. I am warning you now; I will not tolerate disobedience or mutiny. If you feel like I am not worthy of you, then act on it, but you will regret your decision. And you will suffer the consequences."

"Nice fighting words, boy…" Alerion said hastily, emphasizing his final word as if he were throwing a curse. "How about you put your money where your mouth is?"

Heero sighed. He knew it would come to this. He knew he would have to pound the idea that he was their leader into their heads. He waited patiently while Alerion approached him, obviously intent on kicking his ass. The others seemed hesitant. They stood back and waited while their 'fearless leader' attempted to usurp their new captain.

The fist came at Heero's face faster than Heero had expected and he did everything in his power to duck out of the way and counter with a sweeping kick to Alerion's lower legs. The other pilot faltered and nearly fell, but somehow righted himself. He could hear the female twin gasp as he jumped up to his feet and planet his knee in the blond man's stomach, causing him to double over. He landed a fist to the back of Alerion's neck, thrusting his brain into unconsciousness and helping his face along on its fall to the floor. Avalerion jumped forward to help her brother, but somewhere in the middle of her dash to her twin she had a change of heart. She grabbed Heero by the throat with one hand and landed a firm punch against his jaw. She may have been a woman, but she was just as formidable a fighter as her brother. Heero had known many women who could kick ass just as well as a man. Noin, Une, and Sally were only a handful of the female soldiers he had experience in his time.

So when he saw she was faster, smoother and more fluid with her motions he wasn't surprised. He took the hit, flinched and grabbed the offending arm and twisted it. She screamed in fury and kicked him in the stomach, intending perhaps on knocking him off. Instead he tightened his grip and when he fell back she came down with him.

The scuffle was a harsh one. He was stronger than her, but nowhere near as fast. She landed hit after hit on him while he struggled to get her under control. He tried to pin her down, but every time he tried to grab her arm or shoulders she would wrench away and, like a blur, smash her fist into his face or chest before he could defend himself. He finally had had enough, and with knock to the back of her head he managed to put her in the same happy place as her brother.

Before he could get up Jatayu was upon him with Tengu at his side. The two boys grabbed him by his arms and tried to pull him down. Heero turned to throw a punch at Tengu, but was slammed in the chest by Jatayu, who obviously was rather protective of the small, Japanese pilot. Heero found himself pulled the ground, fighting off Jatayu, who happened to be a formidable hand-to-hand opponent. Just as he thought he had the upper hand he felt something sharp jab at the side of his neck. Somehow Tengu had managed to slide behind him and was holding a homemade knife of sharpened neo-titanium to his throat.

This was exactly what Heero had expected of the smaller pilot. This was why the young boy was dangerous.

"Let go of him." Tengu growled into his ear, pressing the blade against Heero's jugular for emphasis. Heero released his hold on Jatayu. The Indian pilot hopped up to his feet and looked down at them, his expression that of remorse.

"I am sorry to have to do this, but you must understand, we cannot have you interfering with our plans." Jatayu said solemnly. He slid up to join Tengu behind Heero. Suddenly the Wing pilot was very aware that Alerion was no longer passed out on the floor. Just as Jatayu had grabbed his arms and pinned them against his back he saw the twins both staggering up to stand in front of him. The knife of the small Tengu pierced his skin, letting loose a rogue drop of blood that Heero felt trickle down the side of his neck and escape into the open collar of his flight suit.

Alerion was panting, his face red with anger. "You may be labeled our captain, and you might wear the wings of the captain, but you've got to know your place, Icarus." Heero tried to pull away from Jatayu but the other boy obviously had put someone in this hold before. He was dropped to his knees in front of Alerion, the knife of the Japanese pilot prodding him ever harder against his now throbbing neck. "We're all wild dogs, and you best learn that I am alpha. Just so you don't forget your place, I think we should initiate you properly into the pack."

Heero wasn't at all surprised that Alerion had taken to kicking him in the stomach, or that his twin sister had decided to join in. He wasn't shocked that Tengu began to chuckle under his breath, happy to see suffering and violence.

These were the elite pilots of this resistance. These were the motley pilots Heero was supposed to be the commander of. Had he had a gun, none of this would have ever happened. Had he been able to defend himself in the ways he knew how, and had he had the freedom to discipline these people and establish his dominance over them properly, he wouldn't be in the situation he was in now. Being held down and brutally kicked over and over again by a jealous colleague. All the more reason to be alone…

It seemed to go on forever. Alerion had enough energy within him to draw this initiation out for almost the entire thirty minutes they had been allotted to prepare themselves for the assembly. When the door opened again Heero had somehow managed to pull himself to his feet. Edgar eyed his bloody nose with distaste and looked over the room at the other pilots, who had all jumped up from their beds to stand at attention at his presence. They were ushered out of the room. Heero followed weakly behind them.

"What happened?" Edgar asked as he pulled him aside. Heero frowned and pushed the concerned Lieutenant's hand away from his bruised shoulder.

"Nothing." Heero said plainly before following his unit down the hall to begin the long trek to the assembly.

Ten minutes later they had been assembled in the hangar Heero's Aequitas unit had formerly been stationed. It seemed that everyone from the satellite had been told to gather here. All of the mechanics, the technicians, the scientists and developers, paper pushers, Intel officers and pilots of every kind stood at attention in neat rows across the massive space of the hangar. A single catwalk was positioned just in front of the crowd. Noah was standing atop it, alongside a tall, familiar figure. Odin Lowe.

"Welcome. Let us begin by thanking you all for your hard work and dedication this past month. We understand the sacrifices many of you have made for our cause." Noah bean to ramble, congratulating mechanics for their work, and talking excitedly about their plans for the future in vague metaphors and grand terms. "We also are excited to present to you are new, elite unit. Let us introduce the heroes of our cause, the Urim Unit."

.

Honestly, he'd fallen asleep during the assembly. Somewhere between Noah's ridiculously lofty idealism and impossible goals, Duo had nodded off from a lack of decent sleep and higher stress levels than he'd experienced in years. He snorted awake against Solo's shoulder and straightened in his seat. People were spilling out of the room. He'd missed the entire assembly.

Fuck it. Solo would fill him in on any pertinent details. Right now, he wanted to go back to his empty hangar bay, forget about Heero, and sleep like the dead. He absently hoped he hadn't drooled on the Sweeper.

"Johnson, Yuy. I want to speak with you."

Violet eyes swiveled from an impromptu inspection of Solo's shoulder to the voice's owner, and Duo found himself staring at Odin Lowe. "Fancy meeting you here," he muttered. The older man gave him an annoyed look and gestured for them to follow. He moved out of the hangar without another word. Duo shot a skeptical glance back at his friend but followed the man down now-familiar corridors.

Solo trailed behind a bit, tugging at the sleeve of the American's shirt, and dropped his voice to a barely-there whisper, his mouth right beside Duo's ear. "Someone beat the living shit outta 'Ro." The Deathscythe pilot's eyes widened and he stared at the other agent questioningly. "During the assembly," Solo murmured, "Noah introduced the Elites. I wasn't the only one who noticed. Got him in the face, from the looks of it."

Duo felt his temper rising dramatically. Who the hell-besides himself and Solo-could possibly have gotten the drop on Heero fucking Yuy? Was it some stupid initiation, or had he gotten injured during training with the GN drive?

They were inside Lowe's office. Duo didn't remember the trip there, and he looked up sharply when Solo elbowed him none too gently in the ribs. Lowe had asked him a question. Fuck. "Sir?" Duo stammered.

The commander cocked his head to the side in a very Heero-ish way and gave him an incredulous look. "Are you just deaf, or retarded?"

Solo tensed at his side. Duo felt his anger flare. "I'm half the fuck awake," he growled. "Your little bulldog Noah has been running our asses ragged for weeks. Now what the hell did you drag us down here for?"

Lowe actually looked a little taken aback by Duo's harsh tone. "You're a feisty one, kid. Jesus." He shook his head. "I noticed you've been poking around in those accounts. I assume that means that you had every intention of following through on your part of our deal. So now I want to come clean with you about a few things."

Duo was all ears, now. What the fuck was going on?

Lowe sat down tiredly in his chair and leveled a serious expression at the two Preventers standing on the other side of his desk. "Noah offered me this position because I practically raised the kid. His parents were killed during the AC Wars. I found him eating out of trashcans on L3. I have a soft spot for strays," he said wryly. "He's hell bent on doing anything he can to show people the price of armed combat and war. He wants the same thing Preventers does, but he's got a flashier way of doing things. I'm here because he asked for my expertise in overseeing a base full of high-security risks and threats. I don't know if you two got a good look at the Elites, but they're damned dangerous. All five of them."

Solo was listening intently. Lowe continued. "I don't need you to hack into any bank accounts for me. I'm in charge of those funds, anyway. What I do need is your assurance that you won't try to interfere from here on out. Those suits are going to Earth, but they won't attack anyone, civilian or otherwise. Noah just wants the public to remember that conflict and war costs a human price. He also wants to draw attention to the fact that despite all of the armed combat in the last few wars, things in the colonies are not any better than they were twenty years ago. If anything, they're worse."

This was ridiculous. Duo knew the most hardliner pacifists in recent history, and he knew them personally. "Why the hell is he building dangerous mobile suits in order to preach some white dove bullshit to the Earthers?" he barked. "What happens when a _real _rebel group gets a hold of that damned technology? What about all of the fucking resources that Preventers is wasting on this project that could have been reassigned to tracking actual threats to ESUN?"

Solo arched an eyebrow at Lowe. "I agree. This sounds like bullshit."

The commander dragged a hand through his graying hair and sighed explosively. "Noah wants ESUN to build suits. He thinks it's ridiculous that they expect to police the world and maintain peace with no armed deterrents to violence and civil uprisings. Wouldn't your jobs as Preventers agents have been a hell of a lot easier if you'd had mobile suits? Would you be here right now if you still had your Gundam?"

That was a valid point. But this was still a cracked, stupid fucking plan. It was going to get them all imprisoned or executed as dissidents and traitors. How would that accomplish anything? "Suits were eradicated after the Eve Wars because they encourage violence," Duo sighed. "Stockpile enough gunpowder in a barrel and it's just a matter of time before it explodes. It just takes one dumb fucker with a match."

The former assassin snorted. "You've got a really pessimistic view of the world, kiddo."

"No," Duo said quietly, glancing at Solo quickly before dropping his gaze to the floor. "I've just seen a lot of people die in nineteen years." He looked up at Lowe. "But I guess you would know all about that."

A sad smile crossed Lowe's face. "Those suits descend to Earth in three days. Noah doesn't have any idea that you two are spies, and neither does anyone else on this base but me. I'll keep Heero alive long enough to get that damned unit dirtside. Worry about hacking my computer and getting an outside connection to contact your Preventers friends-I want them to know what's going on before it happens. That'll keep us all a lot safer once this starts. The last thing I need is three angry Gundam pilots killing off all of the Elite pilots."

Solo spoke up beside him. "Can we see him before he goes to Earth?"

Duo was a little surprised that the man was interested in speaking with his brother after what had happened between them earlier. The Sweeper was like a kicked puppy, not a genetically-altered super soldier. It was kind of sad.

"No," Lowe said regretfully. "Heero has to think that his mission is to prevent bloodshed of any kind. I trust him. I don't trust those other pilots. They're savage little bastards. If he suspects that Noah has no real intention of unleashing them on the planet then he'll get sloppy."

While the American wasn't completely comfortable with knowingly deceiving his partner, he knew that Lowe was right. It made sense. "You two need to go get some shut eye. They'll probably have you supervising work on the Veritas fleet starting tomorrow, but it won't be nearly as intensive as your work with the Aequitas unit was. Grab a decent night's sleep and report to the unsecured hangar at 0800 tomorrow. I'll get you both back in here tomorrow night to contact your organizations. Now you know who to watch and what to report back to them. You can weed out the possible rebels inside your own groups first, then follow their communications outward and build a list of revolutionaries to keep tabs on."

They'd been handed a fucking goldmine of intelligence. Une would be pleased about that, but he wasn't sure how to break the news to her that mobile suits were going to show up on Earth in seventy-two hours. He had a migraine. This mission had been one mindfuck after another.

Duo felt Solo take him by the arm and guide him back through the hallways of the satellite towards the Aequitas hangar. His mind was still processing the potential for disaster in Noah's unrealistic plans, the severity of Heero's position as the leader of the Elites, and Lowe's determination to the cause. This was crazy.

"You need to stop thinking so damned hard before you break something in that pretty head of yours," Solo was murmuring to him as he pushed the Deathscythe pilot down onto his bunk in the still-empty hangar bay. Unit AE-02 was gone. Heero had other mechanics now. And new comrades. He missed that stupid bastard more than he cared to admit. Having him gone again was like leaving the house in the morning and forgetting his wallet-you knew where it was, and that it was relatively safe, but you still wanted it with you, just in case...

Solo had pulled Duo's boots off and tossed them onto the cold cement beside his tool chests. The Sweeper was stretched out on the bunk beside him, still fully dressed, arms folded behind his head and eyes closed. "Go to sleep," he said quietly. "This clusterfuck will still be here in the morning."

The man had a point.

Duo closed his own eyes and tried to fall to sleep, but he just couldn't. He wanted to contact Quatre and confirm that the man wasn't actually funding the development of the most dangerous suits in space since the Gundams. He wanted to call Colonel Une and warn her about the brewing shitstorm that was about to erupt on Earth. He wanted to let Wufei know that they were alive, relatively unharmed, and relay all of the information they'd gathered.

He wanted to see Heero with his own two eyes and tell the stoic Japanese agent how much he fucking loved him.

Twenty minutes after lying down, Duo sighed in frustration and looked up at the dark, empty catwalks over his bunk. Solo's cobalt eyes slid open as well. "I can't sleep, either," he said simply. Duo nodded. They both watched the slowly blinking amber safety lights overhead in the darkness of the hangar's rafters. Carefully, Solo reached over and slid an arm under Duo's waist, tugging the other agent closer. Duo let him. He was beyond fighting his friend off. Solo stilled when he had the American against his side and sighed into Duo's hair. "I miss him, too."

They were still awake and lost in their respective worries when James came to collect them at 0800 hours.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23:  
>[Day 27] MO-49573<p>

Heero had been waiting for the next attack all night, and it wasn't until 0300 when it happened. He feigned being asleep and waited until the assaulting figure had neared his bed. Just as it reached out to touch him his hand shot up to intercept the incoming arm. He yanked it roughly while rolling out of his own bed, taking the other person's body with him to the floor.

His soldiering instincts kicked in. He had been spending years trying to rein in these instincts at the request of the Preventer therapist and his friends. He had tried his best to keep from hurting Duo under similar circumstances. Now that he was living in a hostile environment he felt no need to keep these reactions at bay any longer. These instincts were the only way he was going to survive.

The figure landed beneath him with a grunt, and within seconds Heero began methodically slamming his fist into its face. The dull metronome of his brutal punches set the pace for his attack on his assailant. He could smell blood, and he wasn't sure if it was his or his victim's. He heard a muted cry from beneath his hands but he couldn't stop. He couldn't hold back his need to subdue the assailant. He kept punching until the figure had stopped moving.

By then the lights had been switched on by the meek-looking Tengu, who was standing only one meter away at the light switch, staring down at the bloody mess Heero had left on the floor in horror. Heero turned to follow the kid's gaze, seeing the battered form of the Indian pilot Jatayu crumpled up beneath him.

Tengu screamed, reached into the front of his uniform and pulled forth one of his little homemade neotitanium knives and began to charge at Heero, fury and rage seething from his tiny form. Heero ducked to the side, grabbed Tengu's arm and expertly flipped the little man, knocking him to the ground. He dropped his knee on the Japanese boy's chest and slammed his fist against the kid's wrist, making him drop the knife. Tengu continued to scream, his cries echoing off of the bare walls cinderblock walls.

"You killed him! You fucking killed him!" Avalerion's voice was shrill from where she was standing only a handful of feet away; piercing through Tengu's scream's to illuminate the situation for Alerion, who was glowering down at the scene from just behind her. Tengu writhed beneath Heero's hold and screamed something up at him incoherently in Japanese. Heero snarled and dropped his fist against the kid's face, silencing him with a bloodied nose. Then he sprang up to his feet and began to approach the twins, who were now retreating to the opposite side of the room.

"He isn't dead," Heero said calmly, his eyes narrowed on the female. Alerion jumped in front of his sister to defend her, raising his fisted hands, ready to come at Heero. The wing pilot stopped inches in front of him and stared unblinking at the both of them before raising his now bloody hand up to wipe his eyes from his face, leaving a long streak of Jaytu's blood across his own forehead. "Now. You listen to me." He reached up with startling speed to snatch the front of Alerion's uniform. He tugged the taller man closer and glared straight into his lighter blue eyes, seeing true fear in the other pilot's eyes. "You may have gotten the first hit on me, but I'll have the last one on you. I am your captain. You are my crew, and we will be performing this mission under my orders. If you have your doubts, say them now, and I'll be happy to … clarify them for you." Heero felt the corner of his mouth automatically perk into a half-smile. He watched as Avalerion gawked and hid behind her twin. Alerion just stared in shock down at Heero. The Japanese former pilot could see the gears working quickly behind Alerion's eyes. The other man was weighing his options. He saw the pale blue eyes dart over to his fallen friends, and finally Heero detected that Alerion had finally gotten the message.

Heero Yuy, no… John Ritter, AE-02, Pilot Icarus, was crazy as hell and not a force to be reckoned with.

"Y… yes, Sir." Alerion stammered. Heero sighed and released the front of the other man's uniform and shoved him back against his sister. "Good. Now, take those two to the medic. We have a whole list of training maneuvers to accomplish in a few hours." He turned on his heels and paused, waiting to see if Alerion would change his mind and try to attack him while his back was turned. He waited for a few long moments before hearing the twins shuffle off across the room to pick up their fallen friends. Jatayu's blood was everywhere. Once the other pilots had vacated the room Heero stepped over the large puddle of the Indian man's blood to his bed and slumped down to lie on it. His face burned and his left eye was still swollen from where Avalerion given him a good beating. He was certain a few of his floating ribs had been fractured from his 'initiation' to the crew earlier that day. They had lain into him pretty good, and as a team. He knew that they were a close-knit group. He could see it in their concern for one another, and in the way they worked together. He was the outsider. They didn't want him there. He didn't care about that, but he would be damned if they thought they would get away with laying a hand on him.

He closed his eyes and draped a bloodstained arm over his face and sucked in a deep breath. He had a feeling that Jaytu hadn't been trying to attack him. Something told him that the seemingly peaceful Indian man had no intention of trying to kill him in his sleep, but Heero had to do what he did. He had to make an example out of him, and strike fear in the hearts of the twins. Through fear and intimidation he would win their respect, or at least keep them from trying to murder him every chance they had. He had done what he did for his own safety and for the unity of the team.

Team. He let his tired mind wander away from his current situation to earlier that evening when they had been in the hangar for Noah's speech. He had been looking everywhere for his fellow Preventers in the crowd but he hadn't seen them at all. He wondered if they had been caught. Was Solo all right? Was Duo okay?

He frowned and shook his head softly. No. He couldn't think of them now. They had their mission, and he had his own. His was to keep himself alive long enough to pilot those mobile suits down to Earth.

Day two of training for the elite taskforce Urim Unit had been that of actual mobile suit skirmishes. For five straight hours Heero and his team engaged in mock battles with the thirty Veritas suits. They were given their weapons but told not to use them against the Veritas, while the Veritas, on the other hand, were armed and putting on their full attack. At first Heero thought this was bullshit, but once they started he realized the reason for the training was to learn evasive maneuvers and to make use of the full potential of the GN drives. The clunky, slow Veritas units weren't capable of even touching a pilot in an Aequitas GN suit. The GN drive made it possible to turn, twist, switch direction at will and perform feats that an ordinary suit with regular propulsion couldn't even begin to do. Because of this advantage the Urim units could focus on teamwork and formations rather than aiming at their intended targets.

The first few hours had been rocky. Despite the team's fear of him his men wouldn't cooperate one hundred percent. Heero supposed he could understand. Jaytu was still being held in the infirmary and word was he probably wouldn't be returning to the unit. This had upset Tengu greatly, and Avalerion and Alerion wouldn't even look Heero in the face when they had been told. Now they were to take orders from the man who had beat their teammate to near death without hesitation? Certainly they would have trouble with that.

Heero was patient. Whenever they wouldn't respond to his orders he would wait and just repeat, forcing them to pay attention to him. However, soon they were distracted enough from the exercises and, having worked with him for hours, he knew they began to realize that they could trust him. That he knew what he was doing, and that he had superior knowledge over all of them about mobile suits, piloting, assault maneuvers and general warfare.

Soon his orders were executed without question. They responded quickly to his demands.

After training they were gathered in a meeting room. The twins looked exhausted, and Tengu, though still angry with him, seemed placated for now, sitting in a chair staring down at his hands.

Heero didn't congratulate them on a job well done. He didn't tell them he was grateful for their hard work, or that he was satisfied that they were now listening to his orders. He didn't need to. He leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed over his still aching chest, waiting for their new orders and briefing from Lt. Edgar and Noah.

They materialized in the doorway not long after they had settled in. Lt. Edgar seemed annoyed, his usual calm expression pinched up with irritation. Noah was grinning from ear to ear, as usual.

"Great job today. We are confident that we made the right choice in captain and team for the Urim. Now you have only a little more work before descending upon the earth. I know you are all probably exited. Many of you will be experiencing earth for the first time, and I know it is a daunting thought, but you will be fine. Your mobile suits will be your safe havens. They will surely make the transition a lot smoother." He gestured over to Heero. "While Lt. Edgar explains tomorrow's training, I need to speak with you."

Heero cocked an eyebrow but obeyed, leaving the meeting room with Noah hot on his tail. When they exited the room and the hydraulic doors sealed themselves closed behind them Noah spoke up slowly, his usual perky voice dropping a few degrees, chilling almost instantly. "You are too good."

Heero turned on his heel and stared at Noah for a long moment, waiting for him to continue.

"I mean we hadn't expected our pilots to be so talented. It wasn't necessary for the mission for the pilots to be brutal killers." Noah said flatly, his brown eyes glistening with an emotion Heero couldn't seem to decipher. "He's dead."

Heero's eyes widened. He knew immediately what Noah meant. He had killed Jatayu. They couldn't tell the others, or Heero would never be able to get them to cooperate.

"It wouldn't normally matter, except that we are planning to descend to Earth in less than two days, and we need a capable pilot for that suit. Your killing off pilot Jatayu has put an unfortunate kink in my plan."

"Your plan?" Heero echoed quietly, his shoulders stiffening. He began to realize the weight of Noah's words and all of the jumbled facts of the past few weeks began to fall into place, cementing themselves into a monumental idea he just couldn't ignore.

Noah was the leader. There was nobody else.

Heero knew firsthand that being young meant nothing. The world itself wouldn't take you seriously when you were young, but that didn't mean that your age made you incapable. So Noah had been planning all of this in the darkness, behind the guise of Odin Lowe and the apparent 'investers' of his cause. It had been painfully obvious, but Heero just hadn't had a moment to sit back and think about it.

Knowing what he knew now made Noah very dangerous in his mind. He stared impassively at the young man and waited.

"Why did you have to kill him, huh? Now where the hell am I supposed to find a pilot in such a short time? We have screened all of the Veritas units. They aren't capable of the G-forces that the Aequitas GN units have. There is nobody else. You've completely ruined it." Noah's eyes darkened. "I know you're no ordinary pilot. I don't know what you are, or where you've come from, but I know I need you for this mission. I need you for my plans, but I also need to know more about you. Where did you come from? Why are you capable of over twice the physical strain as the rest of those pilots? The techs in the lab are having a field day with your data. They said you have been genetically altered. Care to explain?"

Things were getting complicated and much more dangerous. Heero tensed and stared unblinking at Noah, wondering what he was implying. Certainly he hadn't deduced that he had been a former Gundam pilot. There were plenty of people in this word with genetic anomalies. He didn't know what to say, but he was prepared to fight in case Noah took the pistol he always kept at his hip in hand and tried to make him talk. He fisted his hands and slowly wound his body into a fighting stance.

"No? I didn't think you would. I am not stupid, Ritter. I know more than you'd like to think. You think I am stupid, right? You think I wouldn't notice how similar you and your flight sergeant look? I know you both are connected somehow. Is he your half-brother or something? I had a tech get a blood sample from him last night, and he has the same peculiar genetics that you do. Your unaltered genes match up. Eye color. Hair color. Stature. That means you share a parent somewhere. I don't care if you two are related or not. None of that matters to me."

Heero's mind raced. So he thought they were related, but didn't suspect that they were spies.

"We share the same father," he said evenly, relaxing slightly. That wasn't entirely a lie. Noah nodded, his dark expression lightening significantly.

"I thought so! Well, that is wonderful. I am in need of a pilot, and you are the best I have ever seen. If he is half as good as you, I would be pleased enough. I know he is just a flight sergeant, but we are working through desperate times. I need you to train him on Aequitas. He needs to take Jaytu's place." Noah nodded to himself happily and reached over to pat Heero roughly on the uniformed shoulder. "Good. I'll send him up later. I appreciate your hard work. Let's win justice for the colonies together, yes?" And then he pranced off down the hallway, vanishing from view half a minute later into the elevators.

Heero sighed and stared at the opposite wall, pinning his arms even tighter across his chest. It was good that they were going to be able to communicate again. It would help them move along their mission, but he wasn't so sure about Solo piloting. He didn't know how much the other agent knew about mobile suits, and he wasn't entirely confident that Solo could handle the M.E.I. OS. It had taken everything Heero had to tame it.

He frowned and turned to enter the meeting room just in time to listen to Lt. Edgar's run down on their training schedule for the next day. He listened distractedly, his mind continuously wandering back to the peculiar conversation he had just had with Noah.

.

Duo had known something bad was going on when a random lab technician had pulled Solo to the side after an hour of supervising the Veritas mechanics. The Sweeper had been gone for less than three minutes, but when he returned to Duo's side with a decidedly unhappy look on his handsome face, the American had arched a questioning brow at him, keeping half of his attention on the mechanic wielding an impact wrench a few feet away.

"They wanted a blood sample," Solo said evenly. "There was an incident in the Elite barracks, last night. Someone beat one of their pilots to death."

Violet eyes stared at Solo. "Ritter's still alive," the older agent added quickly. "I asked."

The relief that flooded Duo's mind was followed shortly by dread. Lowe had said that the other Elites were dangerous. Had Heero done this? Was he losing control over his instincts, or just his temper? Duo had the odd thought that this mission was doing more to regress his partner's emotional capacity than anything in the last five years.

"Why did they want a sample from you?" he asked quietly. Had Noah found out about the blood connection between Heero and Solo? If he had, what did that mean?

"Dunno," his friend shrugged. "But I don't like it."

Three hours passed in the Veritas hangar, and Solo was on edge the entire time. He wasn't paying much attention to the mechanics under their command; he seemed lost in his own head. Duo empathized with him, but there really wasn't much he could do. The American was in the middle of yelling at two incompetent mechanics who'd managed to start a small fire on a nearby workbench when Sergeant James approached them. "You two need to come with me," he said gravely. "Now."

Solo's scowl was so damned Heero-like it was frightening, and then it hit Duo like a freight train. Surely someone had noticed how similar the Sweeper and his brother were in physical appearance and movement? How would Heero have explained that coincidence if questioned? How the fuck was Solo supposed to explain it?

James waved them into the hallway and secured the hangar doors before turning to them both with a serious expression on his grizzled old face. "I'm not sure what the hell is going on, but Noah requested that I escort you," he poked a large finger into Solo's chest, "To the Elite barracks immediately. Your pilot killed a man, last night, and they want you to take his place."

Solo's right eye twitched violently. "I'm not a pilot." Duo recognized it for the half-lie it was. He thought about Solo's past dealings with the ZERO System and cringed. If ZERO had destroyed the man's ability to feel anything resembling emotional empathy for other people, then MEI would just kill him.

"You are, now," James sighed. "No use arguing the point, either. Apparently you and Ritter's DNA profiles read like the same damned novel. Why in hell didn't you tell anyone you're brothers? They wouldn't have separated you two if you'd just said something."

Solo didn't respond. Duo spoke up. "Can I see him?" He hadn't really expected that to come out of his mouth, but what harm could it do at this point? He wanted to make sure that Heero was stable enough to go through with this, especially if they planned on strapping Solo into one of those ridiculously powerful suits, as well.

James gave him an appraising look. "Yeah. For a few minutes. But I don't want any trouble."

Duo nodded, trying not to appear to eager to comply with the sergeant for once. He followed the man down the hallway and through several new doorways. He'd never been in this part of the satellite. Solo was padding along beside him, glaring holes into the floor, and the American reached out, grabbing his friend's hand and squeezing it briefly to get his attention. The Sweeper glared at him in annoyance and ripped his hand away before ignoring Duo in favor of the floor again.

Solo was nervous.

That fact alone was both startling and worrisome. In all the years that he had known the other agent, Solo had never been afraid of anything-the other gangs on L2, the war, Heero... But the ZERO System had shaken him once. And MEI was an OS that Heero had barely been able to master. What if it killed Solo?

"I'm going in to get him. You have ten minutes," James was saying, and then he disappeared into an anonymous-looking room, leaving the two Preventers in the dimly-lit hallway outside.

"I can't pilot that suit," Solo whispered savagely. He still wouldn't meet Duo's eyes.

"You don't have a choice," the former Gundam pilot said quietly.

"I know." Solo slammed his fist into the wall beside him. "Just do me a favor," he said after a few seconds of loaded silence between them. Duo looked up at him and found him chewing his lower lip. Heero did that when he was thinking really hard about something. It made Duo's chest ache. "Keep him alive?"

Duo nodded. "I'll try."

Solo seemed satisfied with that response, and he gave Duo a weak impersonation of his usual grin. The doors to the Elite barracks slid open and James escorted Heero into the hallway. He looked like someone had worked him over with a set of golf clubs. Duo's eyes narrowed angrily. "Ten minutes," James reminded them, then went back into the barracks to wait.

The three agents stared at each other in silence for a long moment before all three of them started talking at once, apologizing and trying to explain misunderstandings. Their mouths promptly snapped shut. Heero scowled. Solo smirked. Duo laughed. This whole mission was going to get them killed, but he couldn't think of two people in the world he'd rather die with. It was a morbid but comforting thought.

.

Heero hadn't been so happy to see anyone as he was when he saw Duo and Solo standing awkwardly in the hallway just outside of his barracks. He was so happy to see Duo he could have kissed him, and he was surprised to find himself glad to see Solo as well.

He crossed his arms over his chest as Duo laughed at him and began to chew the corner of his lip nervously. Though he was happy to see them he knew the implications for Solo being there were serious. The other agent was going to be expected to be a pilot, and to pilot an operating system that had killed other pilots before him.

"They said you will be... taking the place of the other pilot." His voice darkened slightly and his eyebrow twitched at the mention of the corpse being held only a few doors down the hallway. "I am supposed to take you to the training room. Duo, I..." He didn't know what to say. He dropped his arms limply at his sides and thought for a long moment, gnawing even more at his bruised lower lip.

Suddenly he turned and darted back into the barracks, letting the door hiss close behind him. He found Sergeant James and spoke to him quietly in the corner of the room. The man seemed irritated with him, then nodded and sighed loudly before making a dismissive gesture with his enormous hand. Heero nodded and in less than sixty-seconds he had returned to the hallway. He grabbed Duo's hand firmly and began pulling the American agent down the hallway.

"You're coming with us," he said flatly as he all but dragged Maxwell along behind him. "Come on, Solo." He led them to a set of double doors that opened when he punched in the code Lt. Edgar had given him only an hour before. The door opened to reveal the Elite training room. Once they were inside he let go of Duo's hand and made a beeline for the shelf that housed the Haro units. He grabbed Jaytu's dark purple Haro and walked over to Solo. He shoved the orb into the man's hands and said flatly, "You have to introduce yourself to it. Otherwise, it won't cooperate with you or let you have access to M.E.I."

.

Solo took the purple OS with a frown. Duo couldn't blame him. Unlike the orange unit that seemed to worship the ground upon which Heero walked, this unit managed to look inexplicably angry despite being almost identical to the other Haros. It was a little unsettling. The Sweeper held it against his hip with one arm and followed Heero further into the training room, towards the simulator stations in the back.

"I really don't like this," the oldest agent was sighing, slumping down into the replicated cockpit seat and shifting the Haro unit onto his knees. "Hey, you. Wake the fuck up," he growled at it. It's eyes lit up instantly, glowing red and ominous. It even managed to look like it was in a perpetual state of scowling at him. Duo snickered and dodged out of the way when Solo tried to punch him off-handedly from where he sat.

The Haro's earflaps were twitching. "ENEMY PILOT! ENEMY PILOT!"

Solo rolled his blue eyes and practically growled at the unit. "I'm not your damned enemy. Solo Yuy," He barked. "I'm your pilot, now, so get used to it."

"GO TO HELL! GO TO HELL!"

Duo laughed outright at that and wasn't surprised when Solo thrust the uncooperative purple ball at him. "Fix it," He seethed. "It's obviously defective."

"YOU'RE DEFECTIVE! YOU'RE DEFECTIVE!"

Chuckling, the Deathscythe pilot hugged the Haro unit to his stomach and poked it maliciously until it stopped squirming and attempting to escape. Solo looked pissed. Heero looked equal parts concerned and amused. "So we got some news about Lowe," Duo said quietly. The Wing pilot's sharp blue gaze was on him immediately and he knew that he had Heero's full attention. "According to the commander, he's not in this for money. That crazy bastard actually wants to see Noah take these suits to Earth and raise some political hell. We were told not to interfere directly. I'm not really sure what to do, now."

Violet eyes fell on Solo, still fuming in the replica cockpit, and Duo sighed. "Realistically, MEI almost killed Heero. I know you two have the same training, but 'Ro actually flew a Gundam. And the ZERO System," Duo didn't overlook how Solo cringed at the mention of the damned OS, "Already managed to scramble your delicate sensibilities, Solo. MEI might actually turn you into a fucking serial killer."

Duo slumped against the exterior shell of the simulator. Heero was visibly brooding. Their flight sergeant snorted and reclined backwards in the pilot's seat, propping his boots up on the controls lazily. "It's not like they gave me a shitload'a choice in this whole thing, right? I'm gonna do what they tell me to, because we've got a mission to finish."

Not one of them liked the idea, but they all knew that Solo was right. It pissed Duo off. He felt completely useless, for the billionth time with this mission. He looked down at the Haro in his hands sadly. He could fix mechanical things and sneak around, but when it came to keeping Heero and Solo safe, he was about as helpful as Quatre at a football game.

"Heero, what happened to the fifth pilot in your squad, anyway?" Solo had asked.

.

Heero stiffened at the mention of the now dead former GN Aequitas pilot. He couldn't help but interpret Solo's inquiry as having a somewhat accusatory intention. His brother had been making it very obvious he didn't want to do this, and Heero hadn't anticipated this sudden turn of events. Noah throwing his brother into a mobile suit was a bold, irrational move and ever since it had been brought to Heero's attention he couldn't help but feel like there were other motives for this decision that had yet to be revealed.

He suddenly became much more cognizant of the bruises and abrasions all over his body at the memory of the beating he had received the day before and the retribution he had bestowed upon the Indian pilot.

"I had to make an example of him," he said softly, though his voice displayed no remorse on the matter. If was something he had to do, for his own protection and for the good of the mission. It had worked splendidly, and perhaps a little too well. The rest of the Urim team were now compliant, but it had come at the cost of a pilot.

Heero hadn't intended on killing him. He merely wanted to dole out the same beating they had given him, but he had no restraint.

Suddenly eager to change the subject, he looked down blankly at the violet Haro in Duo's arms before speaking coldly, "We have to complete this mission. Things are getting a little out of hand." He knew there had to be more to the thing with Odin than they had first thought, and Duo's new information only confirmed his suspicions.

"We have an advantage now. If Solo can master this operating system we will have two agents in elite mobile suits. That should give us enough power to resist once the Hathcock Project drops to Earth." He reached up to brushed his hair out of his face and sighed. "We should continue on with this mission. Descend to the planet, and then once we are stationed and Noah gives his speech we will attack."

He turned to look at his brother impassively, "They are very skilled pilots. It is going to be difficult to subdue them with matching suits. If we can stop the GN suits, then we can finish the mission and return to take over the satellite."

Heero paused and let his eyes flicker from his brother to Duo again. A peculiar sensation began to tickle he back of his mind. He was feeling ... empty. Having been thrust into a situation so much like those from the wars had caused him to shut down emotionally. Watching the American agent shift uncomfortably under his gaze only confirmed his suspicions. He felt nothing right now, only raw determination to get this all over with.

Duo was fearing Solo under M.E.I. and his brother's potential emotional response to the invasive operating system. Heero knew that it was very likely Solo would respond to it, he himself was already feeling the effects.

Life after M.E.I. was like trying to function normally after being on a hallucinogenic drug. The world had been sharper, clearer, faster, and more vibrant on M.E.I. than it was now. Heero's already accelerated mental capacities had been improved twofold on M.E.I. OS, but now without it he was feeling sluggish and uncomfortable in his own skin.

He found himself yearning to fuse again.

Heero realized he had locked eyes with Duo and immediately ripped them away. "You can run the simulator with my Haro in the meantime," Heero said plainly as he reached over to grab his Haro off of its charging dock. It flickered and blinked happily up at him.

"Haro, assist mode. New pilot, Solo Yuy." He handed the chirping ball over to his brother slowly.

"HARO HELP SOLO YUY. HARO HELP SOLO. ASSIST. ASSIST."

"The simulator is capable of creating an artificial fusion. If you can handle this, then the actual mobile suit will be easier," Heero said in a lowered voice. He reached over to flick on the power to the simulator, watching as the screens and command panels flared to life. "We'll be here to watch you," he said hollowly, unsure if this would help ease his brother's anxiety.

.

Duo observed their friend's simulated fusion with MEI with a desperate apprehension that he couldn't really explain. The whole situation was surreal enough, but Heero's behavior was concerning him, as well. The other agent seemed distant, more cold and calculating than usual, and his indirect admission that he'd been unable to stop himself from killing a teammate was a chilling and ominous portent.

If Heero Yuy's iron control had been chipped away by exposure to this damned OS, how the hell was Solo supposed to handle it?

Granted, they'd had the same training, the same genetic upgrades, and were similar in cognitive processing, but Solo just wasn't Heero. It was a stupid and obvious thing to think-they were quite apparently different people. But Noah was playing a dangerous game of assuming that matching genetics meant comparable piloting abilities and reactions to his blatantly dangerous operating system.

The fusion took seconds, and Duo watched intently as Solo bucked against the OS just as fiercely as Heero had. That wasn't too surprising. What did startle him was how Solo resisted the program. Instead of shouting at MEI the way Heero had, trying to out-talk her or convince her of his own reasoning for doing things a certain way, the Sweeper was speaking steadily and quietly under his breath in some low-level programing language. For every instance of a difference of opinions between what he wanted to do as a pilot and MEI's programming directives, Solo was verbally attempting to rewrite her coding scripts. It was remarkable, and a little fucking odd.

Weirder still, MEI seemed to accept most of his logic and adjusted to compensate for it. And then Duo remembered those damned coders from the Aequitas hangar, Charles and his father, and wondered if this was what their jobs had entailed. It wouldn't have surprised him. It also explained why his attempts at scrambling and tampering with MEI back in the hangar had proven so futile.

Duo glanced up at Heero and found him scowling as he watched the simulation. He wanted to close the distance between them. Sure, they were supposed to be completing a mission, and keeping an eye on Solo, but Duo's baser urges were sometimes-often times-irrational and a little ridiculous. He shifted the purple Haro unit against his hip and reached out to the Wing pilot with his free hand. He caught Heero's hand and tugged.

"How long do these simulations usually last?" he asked quietly.

He really should have been keeping his head on the mission, but Heero's behavior was bothering the hell out of him. Duo remembered how incredibly inhuman the guy had seemed during the war, up until around the time that the Deathscythe pilot had watched his partner calmly self-detonate and nearly die in the explosion.

They'd all been pretty startled that day. Seeing Heero laying in a pool of his own blood, presumably dead amongst smoldering piles of wrecked metal, had punched all of the pilots with the rough reality that every single one of them could-and at some point, _would_-die.

Duo'd just never expected Heero to be the first to go.

The Japanese agent's posture and speech now reminded him of the hollow-sounding kid he'd shot four years ago, and that scared the hell out of him. This mission wasn't worth it if it meant that Heero would revert to the way he'd been back then. Nothing was really worth that.

The American would sooner blow this base to bits than lose his best friend to that dangerous damned operating system.

.

Heero had been immediately impressed by Solo's ability to manipulate the system. He had no doubt he knew why his brother was using this method. Solo had been the prototype for Heero and his mission. He had been the first to be put through ZERO system when the system was in its rawest form. Certainly he would attack M.E.I. with the same method he probably used against ZERO.

It was fascinating. He was pulled from his analysis of his brother's work on the operating system by the feeling of a warm, firm hand against his own. He let his eyes snap down to stare at the fingers that had grasped his palm before tracing up the attached arm to eye Duo closely. It had been a bold move on the American pilot's part. Heero immediately knew why his partner had done it.

"They normally last fifteen minutes, unless M.E.I. establishes that the pilot needs to be tested again. Then it adds fifteen minutes in intervals until the test is complete." He sighed and turned to look back at his brother, who was muttering quiet orders at M.E.I. His own orange Haro was spinning and turning in its dock quietly, its eyes blinking bright green with every new command Solo was saying, recording the new commands and relaying them to M.E.I.

The warmth and firm confidence in Duo's hand against his own startled something dormant in his mind. He felt a flurry of feelings all at once, the emotions flickering across the blank canvas that had only a minute before had been his mind. Camaraderie and trust were emboldened among them.

He tightened his own hand around Duo's and frowned. It was just a reminder as to why he needed the American around. Duo always was the living, breathing, smiling reminder that Heero could be normal, and feel things, and that it would all be okay in the end.

"I'm sorry," he whispered only loud enough for Duo to hear. He squeezed the other agent's hand gently before shifting to stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

.

Duo looked away from the simulator to glance at Heero. What was he sorry for? The American wracked his brain for anything odd or out of the ordinary that his partner had done recently.

Well, he _had _killed someone.

Maybe it was an overexposure to war and all its many trappings, or maybe Duo was just morbid, but the fact that his best friend had beaten a man to death for the sake of a mission didn't really surprise or startle him. Heero was dangerous. Sometimes Heero killed people. Duo was positive that his logic held a flaw somewhere and that it wasn't considered kosher by most normal people to fall for a mass-murdering weapon like Pilot 01, but there they were.

"Whattarya apologizing for?" he asked quietly, cocking his head to the side and regarding the Japanese agent curiously. This seemed like a very odd conversation to be having while Heero's once-thought-to-be-dead brother was growling in programming code at a simulated mobile suit operating system, but he'd done stranger things.

The simulator was making a low-pitched whining hum, and Haro was screeching suddenly. Duo's head whipped around and he saw two things that alarmed him. Solo was passed out in the pilot's seat, and the simulator contraption was smoking.

Correction. The simulator was on fucking fire.

"Shit!" Duo pulled away from his partner and rushed to their Sweeper friend. The sim screen was dark. MEI's voice was still sounding from the speakers in a broken monotone, but her words were nonsense bit strings and error codes. Haro was sounding a warning alarm. Duo grabbed the orange unit from its dock and rolled it across the floor, away from the simulator. The control panel to the sim seemed to be the source of the acrid black smoke, so Duo shoved Solo's long sprawled legs aside and began prying at the bezel of the panel with his fingers. "Find a fire extinguisher!" he barked over his shoulder at Heero.

If there was one thing that growing up on the colonies had taught Duo it was that fire in outer space was fucking lethal. It could rip through a satellite or colony faster than the suppression system could handle it, and the only way to stop it was to lock down the affected quadrants and purge them. When he'd been nine or ten years old, he'd seen a fire at an old scrapyard on L2. Solo had taught him to run as far and as fast from smoke as he could. 'Don't look back,' he'd said. 'Don't stop until you can't smell the smoke.' Duo'd been fast enough back then. He'd gotten into the neighboring sector of the colony just before the quadrant containing the fire had been contained. He'd watched the vents open and the vacuum of space had sucked away the smoke and oxygen in the sector.

It had also killed anyone unlucky enough to be caught inside it.

Fire, naturally, was one of his least favorite things in the galaxy. Sure, pyrotechnics were flashy and entertaining, but fire was unpredictable, uncontainable, and rogue. No one started a fire in space unless they wanted to kill people.

Heero, the good soldier, returned in no time with a good-sized yellow canister just as Duo managed to rip the panel's facing off. He knew how to use the fire extinguisher from experience. The odorless white foam suffocated the smoldering circuitry inside the simulator in seconds. Duo dropped the canister and waited to be sure that the electrical fire had been put out before turning back to Solo. The older agent's blue eyes were blinking dumbly up at him. He looked dazed. "You okay, man?" Duo asked. "What happened?"

The expression on Solo's face didn't change. It was unnerving. Duo looked over at Heero, by his side once again, Haro tucked against his hip, and the intensity in the Wing pilot's blue eyes was a billion times stronger than the confusion clouding Solo's. "I'm fine," the Sweeper said slowly. He was looking between the two former Gundam pilots before settling his gaze on Duo. "Who the hell are you?"

Duo rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha," he snorted. "Get your ass outta that scrap heap and let's go." He turned away from his childhood friend and was starting for the door.

Solo was frowning at him. "No. I want to know who you are and where I am."

Eyebrows at his hairline, the violet-eyed agent froze. "Solo, this shit isn't funny," he growled. "Knock it the fuck off."

Solo wasn't grinning like an idiot at him, and he certainly didn't seem to be playing around. He looked distrustful and a little bit flighty, and that alone was enough to convince Duo that something was seriously wrong. Solo'd never_not_recognized him in his life. "You're fucking serious, aren't you?"

Had MEI scrambled this retard's brains? Had the coding done something to Solo's head? What the fuck was going on?

Solo turned to the Wing pilot and spoke. "Heero, you'd better have a damned good explanation for what your friend's doing in J's lab. He's gonna get pissed that you're bringing home strays, again. You remember what happened to the last one." Duo stared at Heero like the man had announced he was quitting Preventers to make a living as a circus clown. Heero looked just as dumbfounded.

"Excuse us just a sec," Duo sputtered, grabbing Heero by the arm and practically dragging him away from the simulator. "That fucker just lost ten years of his memory. He thinks you're still being trained to pilot Wing," he whispered furiously. "And he doesn't remember me at all." Duo wasn't sure why that hurt so damned much, but he couldn't think about it right now. "MEI fried his brain."

.

Heero hadn't been expecting for his brother to have such a side effect against the M.E.I. OS. He silenced the now wailing Haro and squeezed it tighter against his hip and stared intently at Solo as he denied Duo's existence from his memory.

And when Duo summarized the situation for him he turned to look back at his brother and frowned. So he had regressed to a point somewhere before Operation Meteor. Even before that, before he had even made it to L2 and met Duo.

This wasn't good. He didn't know what kind of person Solo was supposed to be back then. He couldn't remember anything from that time. Dr. J or his associated most certainly had wiped any unnecessary data from his mind before he had been sent to Earth. Anything that Solo had done before that was reminiscent of the behavior that Duo held from his exposure to the streets of L2 was gone. He stepped up to the now cooling simulator and looked down at the expectant face of his fellow weapon.

He couldn't explain to Solo was happened. He knew that if he himself were faced with the scenario his former self would have just shot both Duo and himself and ran for it. He had to manipulate Solo, until they could fix him. It wasn't something Heero was particularly good at. He wasn't one for complex fabrications. His usual approach to things was normally painfully straightforward.

He stiffened his spine and stood at his full measly 5'5'' height and narrowed his eyes.

"He isn't a stray. He is one of us. Don't you remember?" He said as forcefully and coldly as he could. "Prototype 002." He turned to regard Duo confidently before motioning to the former Deathscythe pilot with a casual hand. "We were all sent here for training. Operation Meteor. Set to commence in 28 hours."

.

What the fuck was Heero talking about?

Duo opened his mouth to question his partner's antics but Solo was getting up and out of the sim and grinning at the American like they'd been friends since grade school. That was more like it. Sure, Heero'd outright lied to the man, but whatever it took to keep Solo from stabbing him in the back and leaving him for dead was fine by Duo's flexible moral standards. His friend Solo, their partner for this mission, the Sweeper who'd come scrambling through a bomb-gutted building and dragged Duo's stupid ass out of an air vent would never have harmed him. This guy, though... This was Pilot 000, not Sergeant Solo Yuy.

This was gonna get dicey real fucking quick. Duo grinned back with false confidence at his addle-brained ally and wanted to punch something. Keeping Solo on-board for this mission in his current mental state was the metric equivalent of stuffing a live grenade into your pants and hoping nothing vital got blown off.

They needed to contact Preventers and have Solo extracted. This was a textbook case of liability. He could say the wrong thing and blow the entire mission. He could fuse with MEI in an actual Aequitas suit and go ballistic. There were too many unknowns here.

"We should head back to the barracks. We're using codenames during this last phase of training," Duo said easily, "I'm Guy Johnson, Heero is John Ritter, and you're Solo Yuy."

Solo nodded and then flagged a brow at his brother. "J's having me use your original codename's surname? That's a little weird, isn't it?"

Duo shrugged. "J's a weird guy, yeah?"

That got a laugh out of the Sweeper. He seemed to relent in his questioning and followed Duo out of the training room and back towards the barracks. "We're under orders to speak to no one but each other until launch, so go find an empty bunk and get some sleep," the Deathscythe pilot suggested. Once Solo was safely contained within the pilots' barracks, Duo turned on his partner and groaned. "We need to get ahold'a 'Fei fucking pronto. We've gotta get him outta here before he blows our cover or fuses with MEI. You're a damned good pilot, but I don't think even you could take out another 'Perfect Soldier' gone batshit in an Aequitas with a GN drive. _Nobody's _that good."

.

"You're right," Heero muttered quietly as he stationed himself close to Duo, eyeing Solo from their spot a good distance away. The other agent was lying on his back with his eyes closed, unmoving. Heero knew it was only a matter of time …

Something wasn't right about what Solo had just done. Never had he himself ever taken orders from anyone other than designated leaders before he had been cut loose during Operation Meteor.

"There has to be a way to reset him," Heero said plainly, his eyes never leaving the unmoving figure on the bunk. The other pilots in his division were all lying in their beds, sleeping. He saw out of the corner of his eye the bed of Alerion shift as the other pilot stirred.

He could explain Duo away easily enough, but he wouldn't be able to convince Solo of the other pilots. Heero wished he could remember what had happened back then. What had the training had been like? What was Solo registering and recalling in his mind? It was difficult to lie to someone when you didn't even understand their personal frame of reference.

There was no time for them to dispatch Solo to the Preventers. The only thing he could think of was to call upon Odin Lowe for help.

The idea rubbed him the wrong way. Lowe was the one person who had always told him never to stand in the crosshairs of another. It was safer to never associate yourself with anyone in any way. Heero had already broken that cardinal rule by associating with the Preventers and initiating in his strange connection with Duo. He supposed he could do the same with Lowe. He didn't have any other choice. Solo couldn't be allowed to have a weapon of mass destruction. He was now unreliable, and unpredictable.

"I'm going to go talk to Lowe," he said softly, his eyes shifting from their vigil on Solo to look into Duo's widened, anxious eyes. "Keep an eye on him," he said in a low whisper before taking a step toward the door. He set the Haro unit he had been holding down on the ground beside Duo's feet. It rolled across the ground and bumped into the toe of Duo's shoe. "Don't turn your back to him," he said in warning before ducking out of the room, forcing himself to leave the American behind. He would have taken Duo with him, but he couldn't let Solo remain unwatched. He was capable of anything. He could compromise their mission further by killing everyone in Urim Unit. There would be no way to explain that off.

He would have to hurry. Every moment Duo was left alone with his frazzled brother was a deadly one. He broke out into a run, his destination Lowe's office. That bastard better fucking be there.

* * *

><p>[We survived Hurricane Irene, though we were out of power a few days, so bear with us, ne? 3 Hope everyone else fared well. - BHG]<p> 


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